


Reverting to Type

by antigrav_vector



Series: (R)BB fics - all pairings [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Comic Book Science, Identity Issues, Implied Torture, Lack of Communication, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Threesome - M/M/M, breakups and makeups, deaged characters, lots of relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: Steve and Tony have been slowly figuring out their relationship when Bucky goddamn Barnes all but falls back into Steve's lap. Misunderstandings and assumptions ensue when Steve starts spending all his time with his friend and almost none with his boyfriend.Then, as if that wasn't enough, HYDRA decides to butt back into their lives in a big way.In the span of three days, Steve gets dumped and Tony gets taken. When they get him back, it's like seeing the Winter Soldier all over again. The blankness in his eyes and expression is just painful. And, somehow, it's up to Steve and Bucky to fix this clusterfuck.What they didn't count on was Bucky falling for Tony. Or it being mutual.





	1. [Tony]

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the 2017 WinterIron Big Bang, and will probably post a few chapters at a time, daily, since it got rather longer than I planned. As usual. Chapters will be marked with the POV character, since that changes often.
> 
> Art will be added later, once I have links, and will probably not happen until fic is finished posting.
> 
> Beta thanks go out to the lovely [dapperanachronism](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism).
> 
> 2017-10-20, EDIT: Now with art by [sleepyoceanprince](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fynndin/pseuds/sleepyoceanprince)! It'll also be embedded in the fic, at the appropriate places, but a link can also be found [here](https://i.imgur.com/RgqUKVo.jpg).

"J, rotate thirty degrees clockwise and explode," Tony requested, working on his gauntlets while JARVIS manipulated the holographic blueprints for him.

Steve, the dumbass, had nearly gotten himself killed trying to take on HYDRA alone last week. Now SHIELD was in ruins, Pepper was mad at him again, and Barnes was in the wind. Coulson and Natasha had come by four days ago -- or maybe it was five, meantime -- trying to pump him, of all people, for information.

Somehow Natasha had known before he'd even had a chance to tell Pepper that he and Steve might possibly be an item. Maybe. Tony himself wasn't entirely sure.

He did know that what he and Pepper could have had kept getting sabotaged or downright destroyed by Tony's efforts to save the world every few months. Something about it stressed Pepper out. He himself was fine, and a bit baffled by her reaction, but Pepper usually had a good reason for the way she did things, so he accepted it.

The gauntlet sparked and shocked him when his attention wandered too far afield.

Pulling his hand back with a hiss and sucking at the burn, Tony set aside his soldering iron. Thinking about this was getting him nowhere and he knew it. He and Pepper had tried dating and failed spectacularly. And, yeah, sure, it wasn't really either of their faults. They'd both tried, put in all the effort they could. It was just... He was Iron Man, and she was his CEO, and the two didn't mesh at all. Either Pepper's schedule was ridiculous or Tony was off in parts unknown blowing shit up, and they'd never quite managed to meet in the middle.

This train of thought was just getting depressing, now. He still regretted being unable to make things work with Pepper. Probably always would. But he still had her in his life, helping keep things running smoothly, and that was enough. It would have to be.

There was no way he could give up Iron Man.

Sitting back in his chair with a groan, Tony stretched. "J, time?"

"It is currently 04:43 on June 2. Might I suggest you get some rest, sir?"

"Any word from the Capsicle or his raptorial sidekick?" Steve had implied he would accept Tony's invitation to come stay in New York for a while. Something about the Tower making a good base of operations while he searched for Barnes. He was bringing Falcon with him, for whatever reason.

"None as yet, sir."

Giving in -- it had been almost fifty hours since he'd slept more than an hour at a time -- Tony stood and took the few steps over to his sofa. Letting himself fall onto it, he tried to close his eyes and relax.

Knowing that the nightmares might come was enough to keep him on edge, and made it more likely that they would. He knew that. But it was nigh on impossible _not_ to think about the possibility.

Eventually though, his efforts paid off. Somehow he managed not to dream.

\------

"Good afternoon, sir," JARVIS' voice drifted into his awareness with a welcome feeling of home. "The time is 12:23. The temperature in New York is 74 degrees, and the skies are partly cloudy with a chance of rain."

Rolling onto his side with a groan, Tony peeled his eyes open. It took effort. His eyelids felt like they were weighted down, and the grit in the corners of his eyes scratched hard as he tried to rub it away.

Stumbling to his feet feeling more tired than he had when he'd fallen asleep, Tony made his way over to the kitchenette in the corner of his workshop to fumble with the coffee maker. It took him a while to accomplish the feat, but he felt distinctly better once he was caffeinated.

It was about that time that JARVIS announced, "Sir, I believe it might be prudent to warn Ms. Potts about the Captain's arrival _before_ it occurs."

Damn him, his AI had a point. Tony groaned.

Well, get yelled at a little bit now or a lot later? Neither option appealed, but Tony just knew which would be the worse distraction. Pepper could hold a hell of a grudge when she wanted to, and Tony seemed to be good at giving her a reason to without even trying. 

"Fine, draft me an email for her, then," Tony replied. Moments later, it appeared on a holographic interface beside him, and Tony scanned it. "Good enough, send."

Considering due diligence done, Tony decided he needed a shower.

In the end it was almost 2 pm before he felt halfway human again. Restraining the urge to compulsively check up on Cap again, Tony made his way back to the workshop to finish the upgrades to his gauntlets. The addition of a more compact LASER cutter system meant he had some room to spare in his design, and he'd been working on mocking up a prototype emergency injector system for something like a painkiller.

Pepper walked in just as he was putting the finishing touches on his prototype, which Tony assumed to mean that the work day -- as Pepper defined it -- was over and he should probably eat something. He turned to face her, giving JARVIS the command to save and close, and stopped short.

Pepper's expression looked caught between resigned and annoyed. "Really, Tony?" She broke her silence. "You're inviting Captain Rogers here. Even after all the history between the two of you. Not to mention between him and your father."

She knew all about it. He'd told her one night after the Battle of New York, when he'd had enough to drink that he could talk about it without caring so much that he wanted to blast something fragile into little pieces.

Tony could only shrug in reply. "We're working on it? Look, he needs a place to stay, and SHIELD isn't it. Not after that debacle he caused in DC last week."

"And you're sticking your neck out for him?" Pepper sighed. "Tony, think about this. Iron Man alone attracts enough flak. Combine him with Captain America, especially now that Rogers is seen as a vigilante, and we'll all lose face in the media. SI included."

"So I should just ignore the issue? I've seen what's in the data that Natalie dumped on the web. It's bad. And I will bet you all the stock I own that it's not nearly everything we need to know."

"I'm not taking that bet." Pepper replied, then let a short silence fall between them. "Alright, fine. But I can't publicly support you on this one. If I let SI get dragged into the fight, the situation will only get exponentially worse than it is already."

Tony considered that for a moment. "As long as I still can rely on you, I don't care. Do what you need to to keep the company safe."

She stepped up to him where he still sat in his chair and dropped a chaste kiss on his forehead. "I do love you, you know."

"Yeah." Tony tried to smile, knowing the expression probably said more about his feelings on the matter than he wanted it to. "I know."


	2. [Tony]

In the two and a half weeks since Cap and his military friend had followed through and joined him in New York, Tony had more or less continually gotten disapproving looks from Falcon. His own electronic search for Barnes hadn't turned up much, either, and Tony felt that failure keenly. He wasn't used to being outsmarted or outmaneuvered. Barnes' knack for hiding was uncanny, though. Their target seemed to know where every last CCTV camera and cell phone was, and how to avoid them. He and JARVIS had only found a few very scattered and old images of Barnes, and most of the images where Barnes was clearly recognizable were from the spat he'd had with Cap in DC.

It was getting annoying.

When he'd brought up the topic of Falcon's attitude indirectly, JARVIS had suggested he was imagining the disapproval. Tony was pretty sure his AI was full of shit. JARVIS had carefully skirted the issue of Barnes' supernatural ability to vanish.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Tony had left the workshop and made his way up to the common floor. It fell right below his own apartments and above the ones he'd designed for the team. Falcon had taken to spending much of his spare time there, chatting with JARVIS and working on settling the insurance claims for his stuff. He'd lost a good portion of his belongings thanks to the actions of HYDRA, in the aftermath of the sinking of the three brand new helicarriers.

True to expectations, Sam was in the common room, and looked up from the interface he was using to talk to JARVIS and manage his mail. "-- let me know when they try to contact me?" He was saying.

"Of course," JARVIS replied smoothly.

Tony walked past and into the kitchen, feeling eyes follow him. He made himself a sandwich, assembling it slowly and considering what he was about to do. He was resolved to do this, but he hadn't really spent any time with Sam, and had no idea how the man would react.

Footsteps behind him signaled that Sam had followed him. Probably curious. "You know," the airman opened, "a man might think you disliked him, the way you carefully avoid talking to him."

Tony snorted and turned to face him. "I could say the same. Every time I see you I get these disapproving looks from you." 

Calmly raising an eyebrow at him, Sam held his eyes. "Right. I disapprove of a man who's done everything possible to fix his mistakes and lead a better life." Sam's voice was dry and the sarcasm seemed to drip off his words. "I disapprove of a man who spends hundreds of millions on charities and philanthropic outreach every year. I disapprove of a man who fixed my wings, no questions asked, and added upgraded body armour into the deal for free. I disapprove of a man who's offering me a place to stay while HYDRA does their best to ruin everything I own from my house to my credit rating. Sure. I disapprove."

Well, put that way. "So what's with the staring, then?" Tony asked again, more or less disarmed and mollified.

"Not staring. Thinking." Sam corrected gently. "Wondering what the hell I could possibly offer someone like you. Why the hell you're helping me without saying a word about it, and then hiding in your workshop instead of talking to me like a normal person."

Caught flat-footed, Tony stared at him for a moment. "Do you have any idea what you just said?"

"I said, I want to do something for you, and I don't know how or what." Sam faced him down. "Think about it. I want an answer sometime in the next few days. An honest one."

\------

In the end, Tony ended up deferring giving Sam that answer. Two days after their conversation, while Tony was still at a loss for what to tell Sam, Barnes made an appearance at the Tower's loading docks. JARVIS was the only one to spot him, and Tony was damned sure that was intentional.

Barnes had talked to JARVIS, too, and Tony wasn't sure what to make of that. Well, more accurately, JARVIS had talked to Barnes. The AI hadn't gotten an answer. But, on the other hand, Barnes had listened without bolting.

Barnes came back every few days after that, listening to JARVIS' attempts to persuade him to come inside the Tower, to talk to Steve, without replying.

It took three weeks for JARVIS to talk Barnes around. Even after he'd succeeded, that success was limited. Barnes insisted that any conversation take place someplace public and that only Cap should go to meet him. He'd named a busy corner of Grand Central, knowing that since the reconstruction was still ongoing most of the CCTV cameras would be out of commission.

Steve had instantly decided in favor of going. It was clear that Barnes would disappear again more permanently if they tried to cheat, too, and that was the last thing they wanted. Steve because it was his best friend, and Tony because he knew how politics worked. The longer Barnes stayed unaccounted for, the worse the situation would get, politically, and the more effort it would take to extricate them all from the mess HYDRA had forced on them. And that was glossing over Cap's current status as America's Most Wanted. Tony had his lawyers working on the issue, but HYDRA had enough political clout through the elected officials they owned to make it very difficult to reverse their denunciation of Steve as a traitor.

Granted, the furor over DC had been slowly dying down over the past month, but it was clear to Tony that the news wouldn't stop putting up the few pictures of Barnes that they had access to over and over again in an attempt to find the man. It was effectively a worldwide manhunt, and unless Barnes agreed to come into the Tower, he'd get taken eventually.

All that still meant Tony was left with nothing but Steve's GPS tracker, embedded in his StarkPhone, to trace. If this was an elaborate double cross, he knew he'd never be able to get there in time to do anything. Sam clearly knew it, too, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

Tony had elected to wait in the common room, this time, rather than his workshop. He'd gotten restless and pacing just wasn't the same when his bots were underfoot and liable to run over his toes trying to "help."

"Think this is going to work?" Sam broke the silence.

"No idea," Tony admitted. "Either it will go off without a hitch and Barnes will agree to come here, or Steve will drop off the map too, and we'll be too late to do a damn thing."

Twenty-seven long minutes later, the tracker began moving back toward the Tower at a walking pace. Tony took that as a good sign.

Neither he nor Sam moved from their respective positions on the sofa and lounge chair.


	3. [Steve]

Actually seeing Bucky again had been a shock, Steve admitted in the silence of his own mind as he made his way sedately back to Stark Tower on foot. He was taking his time, allowing himself a chance to mull over the conversation he'd just had.

Steve had privately thought that Bucky had looked subtly different when JARVIS had reported that he'd had a conversation with him and shown them the video of the encounter.

Seeing Bucky in person, though... that had been deeply weird, as Tony would have put it. His old friend had looked haunted and worn down but somehow younger than he'd seemed in DC. Steve hadn't been sure what to think of that until he'd heard what Bucky had to say.

The gist of the conversation, which had taken them the better part of half an hour to work through despite their efforts to keep things brief, had been that Bucky had wanted to keep his distance until he remembered properly. He'd had the experience in DC that the serum he had in his veins could -- and would -- restore his memories, but it was clear that that was going to take time.

In their last confrontation, aboard the falling Helicarrier, something Steve had done had triggered Bucky to remember who, exactly, he'd been fighting to kill. It had been what had driven him to haul Steve back out of the river, and to disappear. Bucky had spent the next three weeks wrestling with the guilt and trying to come to terms with being in a modern world that was doing its best to hunt him down.

He hadn't succeeded, but the serum that had brought back his memories piece by piece as it had physically healed him had also done a lot more than that.

Bucky had realised it just under a month after he'd done his best to vanish. He'd looked in the mirror and decided he needed a shave and a haircut. The shave he could do himself, but the haircut would require a trip to a barber, unless he wanted it to look awful. His appearance had never been important to HYDRA, so they'd never bothered to teach him how to cut his own hair, and nor had they cut it for him. Shaving off the accumulated scruff -- which was now more like a beard -- had revealed a face far younger than he remembered, or felt.

Steve was sure that had to have been almost as disorienting as his own transformation had been when Erskine's serum had been tested on him. He couldn't even imagine being effectively aged down until he was nineteen or twenty again.

Bucky, who was actually a couple of years older than Steve in reality, definitely didn't look the part anymore. He looked like decades had sloughed off his skin.

Shaking his head, caught between amazement and wonder, Steve had agreed to let Bucky tail him back to the Tower and to show him the way in that was least likely to be observed. He'd shrugged and told Bucky that there was no unobserved way in. That JARVIS kept watch on all possible entryways. That Tony would know immediately.

Apparently, now that Bucky had his memories back, Steve's implicit trust in Tony and JARVIS was enough guarantee.

Making his way around to the pedestrian entrance to the Tower's underground parking garage and waving to one of the cameras he knew about, Steve forced himself to keep to his walking pace, rather than rushing to the elevator. All he wanted was to pull Bucky into a bear hug the moment they had some privacy and not let go until he had to.

When he reached it, the elevator opened for him without prompting, and Steve recognised JARVIS' influence. Stepping in, he turned to face the garage. Bucky was nowhere to be seen. Stifling the disappointment he felt at that -- he'd been sure Bucky had actually followed him into the Tower -- Steve waited a beat.

The elevator doors stayed wide open, though, for much longer than they normally would have. JARVIS had to have eyes on Bucky, or that wouldn't be the case. Steve just knew it. Cautiously, he called out to his friend, "Buck? You comin', jerk?"

Steve jumped when Bucky seemed to materialise in front of him out of thin air. "Tempted not to," he grumbled.

Putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder and pulling him in carefully, Steve replied. "You've come this far. Don't turn back now. Til the end of the line, remember?"

"What if they kick me back out?"

Bucky had used the plural, but Steve knew his friend meant Tony. He shrugged, not letting go of Bucky. "If they did, I'd go with you. But I don't think Tony would accept that. He's been helping me try to find you."

The elevator doors finally closed on the heels of that statement, and JARVIS carefully broke his silence. "Would you prefer your floor, Captain, or the common floor? Sir and Mr. Wilson are both anxious to know about the result of your trip to Grand Central."

That strongly implied JARVIS hadn't said anything to them yet about the former assassin who was now in the Tower. "Buck? Your decision."

A shudder ran through Bucky that made Steve tighten his hold, but he answered. "Might as well get it over with."

"Common floor, then, please."

The ride up was silent after that, and Bucky pulled back after a few seconds. He spent the remainder of the trip fighting to keep his expression blank and his posture neutral, and seeing that made Steve ache somewhere deep behind his sternum. Bucky had been subjected to a lot under HYDRA's control, and the effects of their not-so-tender care showed clearly in the way Bucky was struggling not to let a simple meeting freak him out.

When the elevator pinged and the doors slid smoothly open, Tony and Sam both jumped to their feet as if stung. Sam was the first to catch sight of Bucky and stop short. Tony, unprepared for Sam's reaction, collided with him, and both of them staggered.

Bucky snorted. "Graceful," he commented.

Recovering quickly, Tony drew himself up to his full height. "Yeah, I'd like to see you do better," he grumbled. "Wilson, a bit of warning would be nice next time." Making his way toward the elevator door as the two of them stepped out, Tony's swagger seemed to increase with each step he took. "So," he said, "you're looking a lot younger than you did in the photos. Find the fountain of youth somewhere while you were hiding from HYDRA?"

"Something like that." Bucky squared his shoulders. "Look, I know I did some fucked up shit," he said quietly, with what sounded like decades' worth of sadness and regret in his voice, and Steve felt another pang of strong emotion go through him, "but I hope you can get past that enough to work with me."

Steve could see that something in that statement gave Tony pause. "Buck," he put in, watching Tony carefully but unable to read Tony's expression, "that wasn't you. Sure, it may have been your hands that did whatever has you so guilt-ridden, but it was HYDRA's will, HYDRA's choice. Not yours."

Sam rolled his eyes. "True as that might be, Rogers, you're a sap."

Tony huffed. "The thing that offends me most about this, right now," he said, catching Bucky's attention, "is that arm. What the hell did you do to it? It looks like you tried to run it through a shredder up to the elbow and then decided to throw the machine in reverse just so that it would destroy the mechanisms that little bit better."

Bucky raised an eloquent eyebrow at Tony, clearly not expecting the sudden change of topic. "What's your point?"

"My point is that it's a travesty, and desperately needs an upgrade. Steve, back me up here."

Steve shook his head at Tony's dramatics. "That's Bucky's choice," he replied firmly. "I'm not going to make it for him."

Tony gave him a long searching look, then nodded. "Fine. Barnes? Come on. Yes or no."


	4. [Bucky]

HYDRA was searching for him, with a rabidity he'd expected but underestimated, and his only two options were hiding, or finding allies.

Preferably both.

Stark's offer was pretty clearly an overture of some kind. The question was, an overture to what? Stark seemed jumpy for some reason and Bucky couldn't put his finger on why. It made him ever so slightly uneasy. The man's engineering prowess had never been in question, though, and Steve was willing to vouch for the guy.

Bucky nodded.

It was like setting loose a whirlwind or watching a dam overflow. Stark seemed to light up, setting everything else aside that wasn't his chosen project of the moment, and almost before he could react Bucky found himself being pushed back into the elevator while Stark rambled at him about power-to-weight ratios and hydraulics.

"Sir," Stark's AI interceded after a minute or so, "it might be prudent to determine what issues Sergeant Barnes' arm is causing before attempting to fix them."

"Well, get on it, then, J," Stark replied without missing a beat as he deftly keyed open his workshop door. "Scan and project."

Bucky would have given JARVIS a grateful look, had he known where to direct it. "That won't get you far," he told Stark, and by extension JARVIS. "The arm's shielded."

Watching Stark, Bucky wondered whether telling him that might have been a mistake. If he'd thought the prospect of playing with the tech in his arm had intrigued Stark before, it couldn't hold a candle to the expression he wore now. A mixture of pique and sharply focused interest in his voice to go with it, Stark rubbed his hands together. "So, they wanted to keep it a secret, did they? Well, we can't have that. Guess we're doing this manually, JARV. Come here, Barnes."

Warily, Bucky approached him, watching as Stark began ordering his robots around and assembling a set of tools on what appeared to be his main workbench. Once he was satisfied, Stark pointed to the chair opposite him and settled himself at the workbench.

Blithely ignoring Bucky's lingering wariness, Stark gestured fluidly in the air to his right, seeming to call holographic interfaces into being by magic, for all that Bucky knew it had to be JARVIS responding to the unspoken commands. Stark was surprisingly graceful in his element, and, lit up blue by the interfaces he worked with, oddly attractive. Not that he wasn't already, and in a way that could easily make ordinary men envious, but the lighting made him look like he could do literally anything, like JARVIS was an extension of his mind and will. It was amazing how in tune they were.

Like he and Steve used to be despite their squabbles, Bucky thought, suddenly morose. They weren't anymore. He lifted his arm up and onto the work table, letting it rest there, palm up and hand open.

Stark caught his eyes, not making a move toward him. "First things first." He picked up a screwdriver and pointed at Bucky with it. "JARVIS was serious when he asked you what the problems were. You've owned this thing for decades, and I know you know its responses inside and out, even if you've never taken it apart."

Bucky, caught off guard by Stark's confidence in his assessment, simply stared at him blankly for a moment. Shaking off the surprise he felt, he made a face. "Well, it's too damned heavy, for a start. Always was, and it's even worse now that I've lost a lot of muscle mass."

Stark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Noted. Anything else?"

"Waterproofing could be better, but on the whole it's actually been pretty reliable. It was built to require as little maintenance as possible." Bucky shrugged, his metal arm scraping against the workbench. "Be nice if the response time was a bit quicker for knifework, but I can manage."

\------

In the end, the repairs and upgrades to his arm took nearly three days. Granted, that was primarily because Bucky insisted on keeping more or less sane hours, and had simply walked out of Stark's workshop when he deemed it too late to continue.

The first time, Stark had tried to haul him back into his seat, and Bucky had taken advantage of that to haul him into the elevator instead. Steve had almost laughed himself sick when they'd exited on the common floor. Bucky had ended up slinging Stark over one shoulder, then shifted him to rest on both in a fireman's carry, when Stark had started ranting about leather pants and how they made Bucky's ass look. Luckily for Stark, Steve had intervened. Steve had planted Stark on his feet and firmly steered the man out of the room, and, Bucky assumed, into his bedroom. Steve reappeared several long minutes later, looking slightly mussed.

The second time, Bucky had done much the same, though this time Stark had stayed on his own feet until they reached the common floor. The scene had ended similarly, too. Steve had somehow (Bucky wasn't sure how) coerced Stark into bed. Bucky wasn't sure what to think of the rapidly fading bite mark high on Steve's neck, either. The punk had noticed Bucky's stare and gone red, though, and wasn't that an interesting development. 

Somehow, by the time Bucky had allowed himself to be chivvied into the workshop on the third day, Stark had had an array of parts laid out on his workbench, along with new panels to cover them with.

Rather to Bucky's surprise, actually taking apart his old arm and replacing it didn't take long. Less than an hour later, Stark was cleaning up and putting away his tools with a speed and accuracy clearly born of long habit. It was much like the way Bucky treated his weapons, really. Deft and precise, and almost mesmerizing to watch.

He said nothing until Stark was finished. "Hey," he called, then let the silence draw out briefly. "Thanks."

Stark turned one of his media smiles on him. It made Bucky want to wince for the sheer falseness of the cheer behind the expression. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see the workings of that thing," he replied, a bit more honest feeling showing through. "Win-win. I got what I wanted, you got a new arm."

Sure that something was off about the undercurrents to the short exchange, Bucky simply nodded. He needed to think about this.

"Go test it out," Stark told him, "and let me know if it needs adjusting."

Flexing the newly upgraded arm with its lightweight carbon-fibre and Kevlar components, Bucky nodded. "I can do that." It felt like he was wearing nothing at all. Like a feather was attached to the ball of his shoulder rather than an arm. "Any suggestions?"

Stark raised an eyebrow at him that spoke volumes. "Take that big blond slab of muscle you call a best friend down to the gym and try to break it."

"The gym?"

"No, smartass, your upgraded arm. Do I need to upgrade your brain, too?"

Not letting the verbal sniping get to him, Bucky smirked. "Wouldn't turn that down, seeing what you managed to do with this," he shot back, gesturing with his new arm, and grinned when Tony laughed outright, surprised by the sally.


	5. [Tony]

Adjusting the arm to fit Barnes' lower body mass hadn't been nearly as complicated as Tony had half expected. More complicated to deal with had been the feelings Barnes was obviously stirring up in Steve.

Tony had done his best to keep Steve's attention. Well, when he hadn't been messing with Barnes' arm, anyway. That had occupied most of his thoughts. All his projects did, until they were at a stage where JARVIS needed time to machine parts to assemble or the Board needed time to deliberate and sign off on what he and Pepper presented to them. 

Steve, on the other hand, was preoccupied with Barnes, despite Tony's best efforts. Should have known he couldn't compete against that. Steve and Barnes had gone down in WWII history as one of the best combat teams for a reason, and Tony could see why, first hand. The two of them were so in synch, even now, with Barnes fighting the lingering remnants of his conditioning, that it was borderline ridiculous.

Tony hadn't hesitated to watch the footage of Barnes' test drive of his new arm. Barnes had headed up to the common floor, caught Steve's eyes, and without a word or gesture Steve had set aside what he was doing to follow Barnes out of the room. Wilson had stared after them, baffled.

The scene that had followed, in the gym, had been awe inspiring.

Steve had told him a little about his battle with the Winter Soldier. Wilson had told him a little more. But seeing the pair of them spar had been something worth the time. The pair of them were almost a blur, testing, circling, pressing the attack then giving ground. It was like a well-choreographed dance.

That almost psychic knowledge of one anothers' fighting styles and tactics extended to their day-to-day existence as well. The years they had spent more or less in each other's pockets had rendered them able to read one another without even trying, and that synchronicity was what had made Tony wonder in retrospect what the hell had even been happening when Barnes had hauled him bodily out of the workshop that first night. It hadn't helped matters that Barnes had a fantastic ass, and not hesitated to more or less literally rub Tony's face in that fact by throwing Tony over his shoulder.

Barnes was too damn pretty, and the fact that he looked like he was barely legal was only weirding Tony out more. Sure, Tony knew Barnes was about 95 years old in real time, but he didn't look the part at all, and Tony was sure he would stay that way for quite a few years, too. It wasn't confirmed, thanks to Rogers' ice nap, but the healing properties of the serum ought to keep them both young as well as fighting fit. 

A super soldier wasn't useful if he aged as quickly as he burned calories, after all.

Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but all his instincts were screaming at him that Steve wouldn't want to stick with him if he had Barnes back. And that wasn't even going near the issues of the age gap and generation gap stretching between them, wide as the Gulf of Mexico and twice as deep.

Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Tony did his best to set them aside; Steve was more steadfast than that, right?

He needed a coffee.

\------

Over the course of the next week, Steve and Barnes seemed to spend more and more time together, if that was even possible.

Sure, Steve still came to bed when Tony initiated things, but he tasted distracted when he did. Left to his own devices, he stayed away.

Tony did what he could to cope: he started spending nights in the workshop again. A habit he'd tried to break when Steve had more or less tumbled into his bed.

He liked Steve, in a way that was more than casual. Yeah, that had made him deeply uncomfortable at first, but after he'd gotten used to the idea of having someone in his life and his bed who understood superheroing the way Steve did, Tony had found he definitely liked that more than was probably wise.

So it _hurt_ in a way that was bone-deep that Steve was pulling back from him.

Tony had come across Wilson in the common floor kitchen two days later.

Wilson had given him a once over and asked, "You okay, man?"

"Sure. Fine. Just peachy." Tony didn't turn away from the counter, where he was setting some coffee brewing. "Got lots to catch up on since I lost three days to fixing up Barnes' arm."

Wilson clearly didn't believe him, but let the issue go, changing the subject. "Speaking of fixing things up. You got time to tweak my wings a little?"

Tony had happily seized on the new topic, settling in to argue power-to-weight ratios and fuel composition with the guy. Wilson was almost as picky as Rhodey about those things, and Tony suspected it was an Air Force thing. He kind of loved it. It made any adjustments much more of a challenge than they would have otherwise been, requiring a detailed knowledge of how all of the parts of the system interacted, and that was far more interesting than simply tweaking a gear ratio here or an actuator speed there.

When Pepper had shown up half an hour later to interrupt their discussion and harass him into going to whatever bullshit award presentation was this week's theme, Tony hadn't protested too much. She'd given him a disbelieving look, but said nothing. Doubtless to keep him from changing his mind once he'd agreed.

It was a distraction at a time when he badly needed one.

\------

Much later that night, Steve sought him out. "Tony?"

"Hmm?" Tony didn't look up from the holographic projection of his left boot and shin plate.

"Is something wrong?"

That time Tony did look up. Steve seemed uncharacteristically concerned, in a way that he hadn't since Barnes had reappeared in his life. Tony shrugged and turned back to what he was doing. "Not really."

"Why are you avoiding us?"

"I'm not," Tony told him. "I've got work to do and you've got your best friend to cozy up to."

Sounding hurt and almost angry, Steve shot back. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Rogers," Tony gritted, suddenly angry himself, "that we're finished."

"What?" Steve looked stunned and sounded like he'd been caught totally flatfooted. His voice was a little too blank and even to be called calm.

Tony stood abruptly, his frustration and loneliness boiling up from some hidden place in the pit of his stomach, not caring that he sent his chair coasting halfway across his shop on its casters. "You're so wrapped up in Barnes that you can't even see that you've been pushing me away. You're thinking about him all the damn time, and trying to get you to focus on whatever we are hasn't been working. I'm not about to fight that particular losing battle. We're done."

"But--"

"J," Tony cut him off, "I need some air. Suit me up."

"Tony--" Steve reached for him, and Tony dodged.

Without a word, JARVIS followed orders. Tony could tell the AI disapproved, but he didn't much care at the moment. He'd known this moment was coming, but that didn't mean it didn't cut deep.

The faceplate closed, interface booting up quickly, and Tony flung himself up into the night sky, unshed tears blurring his vision.

This was better. Better than drawing things out to their inevitable conclusion. It would only have hurt more that way. Steve and Barnes belonged together. They were a matched set, and Tony should have known better than to hope. Damn fool that he was, he had.

Steve's laser focus on Barnes was telling, though.

Pushing the armour faster and higher in an attempt to forget the emotions knifing through him, Tony didn't return to the Tower that night.

Instead, he decided it would be prudent to retreat to Malibu. His house had been rebuilt, and that awards ceremony or whatever was supposed to be in L.A., anyway.


	6. [Steve]

Stunned by the turn of events, he didn't leave Tony's workshop all night, waiting. Hoping. But Tony didn't come back.

Eventually, long after he would normally have breakfasted and gone out for his run, the elevator pinged and Bucky stepped out. "Steve?"

He left the workshop, at that, scrubbing at his face with his hands and ignoring the fact that they came away wet. He had to clear his throat before he could answer. "Here, Buck."

Bucky, who'd clearly been looking for him, had zeroed in on him long before he'd spoken. "You okay, punk?"

Steve couldn't answer.

"Steve? Come on, talk to me." Bucky looked like he was bracing for disaster or a fight, and wasn't sure which response was more likely to be needed.

Taking a shuddering breath, Steve forced his shoulders square. "I think I just got dumped."

"What?" Bucky scowled. "JARVIS," he called, turning his attention to the camera he knew was discreetly placed in a corner of the ceiling, "is this for real?"

"Unfortunately, it is, Sergeant." The AI sounded pissed off. "I suggest letting Sir calm himself down before attempting to work this out."

"What the hell does that mean?" Bucky demanded, pulling Steve into a tight hug.

Grateful for the support, Steve allowed himself to cling to his friend. Bucky had been the only constant throughout his life, and it seemed it would stay that way.

"It means, Sergeant," JARVIS sniped, "that he is hurting and has removed himself from the situation."

"Yeah," Bucky retorted, his own voice carrying more than a hint of anger, "hurting Steve."

"Do not devalue Sir's own pain. He is not unscathed, or as unaffected as he pretends." 

Bucky growled a string of curses under his breath in vehement Russian. "That's as may be. But if he doesn't get his ass back here and at least attempt to mend this fence, I'm gonna find him and shove my boot up his ass."

"While that is an understandable reaction," JARVIS returned, "it would not be a productive one. In any event, it is not likely that he will return to New York before the awards ceremony scheduled in three days."

"For fuck's sake." Bucky grumbled. "Fine. We'll deal with that after he's back. Tell him that if he's not, I'm going to find him and haul his ass back here. And you, Steve, are coming upstairs and telling me everything. Now."

\------

The three days JARVIS had quoted passed agonizingly slowly. There was a tension in the Tower that Steve had never felt before, and it was especially pronounced between Bucky and JARVIS, divided as they were over those they were most protective of.

The first night, Bucky had made good on his promise to make Steve tell him what had happened. That Tony had apparently come to the conclusion that Steve was too focused on Bucky to care about him anymore. 

The worst thing about it was that, looking back over the time since he and Tony had decided to give a relationship a chance, Steve couldn't even deny that he'd screwed up. Where in the beginning he'd spent time with Tony and made sure they were in agreement on the way their relationship was progressing, he definitely hadn't done that recently. And, as he'd realised when he'd told Bucky about what had happened between them in the workshop, they really hadn't been together long enough for things to normalize properly.

It had only been a grand total of six and a half weeks between the events of DC, and Bucky's reappearance in his life. Nearly two months in which he really hadn't spent enough time with Tony.

He'd thought they were secure enough in their understanding of one another, though. Thought that Tony would understand. That he would know Steve had no intention of just throwing what they were building aside like that.

It appeared he'd been wrong about that. That he'd been wrong about Tony again.

He really needed to stop making assumptions about the man.

"Hey," Sam's voice broke into his thoughts, and Steve straightened. "You okay there, Cap?"

"More or less."

Sam gave him a crooked smile. "Something tells me it's 'less', right now. You want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

With an amused huff, Sam turned away and strolled into the kitchen. "You know where to find me if you change your mind, alright?"

"Yeah, Sam," he agreed. "I do."

"Dinner's on," came the response. "Do me a favor and set the table, would'ya?"

\------

Late in the night of the third day, JARVIS, who'd maintained a rather icy silence toward both Steve and Bucky, interrupted their mostly failed attempt to find a card game to play with Sam that didn't end in a fight. It was nearing 1 am, and Tony should have been done with the ceremony, Steve realised.

"Mr. Wilson," the AI addressed Sam rather than him or Bucky, for all that they were seated around the same table. "I'm afraid I must break up the game. There is a very high likelihood that Sir has been taken."

Steve looked up at JARVIS' camera, alarmed. "What? How? And when?"

"No, Steve," Bucky put in quietly. "The question is 'by whom?'."

"I have no information on that score," JARVIS said, not acknowledging either of them, "but Sir did not return to his Malibu property at the expected time. Nor has any distress signal been activated. Though the GPS unit indicates that his phone remains at the location of the ceremony, and I have initiated its remote wipe protocols, there are photographs in the media of his departure."

Steve decided it would be wiser to let Sam do the talking, and carefully bit back the litany of curses he wanted to let loose. Bucky, as always, followed his lead.

"Any ransom demands?" Sam asked, shrewdly. "I'm sure he has a long list of enemies. Which are most likely to try something like this?"

"No ransom demands have been made," JARVIS told him, and a graphical interface flickered to life on one of the floor-to-ceiling windows across the room. It contained a list of names, both of individuals and organizations. "The enemies Sir has made who are likely to attempt this mode of revenge are, sadly, fairly numerous."

Sam stood and walked over to read it. "SHIELD and HYDRA I expected. Roxxon, Tiberius Stone... I assume the rest of these are business rivals."

"In large part. The organizations to keep an eye on would be SHIELD and HYDRA, in my estimation. The Ten Rings and the Red Room would likely use other tactics, and are not currently known to be active within US borders."

Sam scoffed. "SHIELD and HYDRA might as well be one and the same," he pointed out. "We cleaned out a lot of them in DC, but I'm sure there are some we missed." He looked up sharply as a thought occurred to him. "Hang on. I thought Hammer was gone. That fiasco was all over the news for months. And what about Rhodes? Isn't he Stark's bestie? Can't we call him in? We might need the firepower; most of these organizations can field a hell of a lot of men."

"Colonel Rhodes is currently on an assignment he cannot terminate. I have notified him but we cannot count on War Machine's assistance. To answer your other query, Justin Hammer is indeed in prison, but that does not preclude the possibility that he might make an attempt like this. There are ways of communicating with the outside, even in a place like Rykers."

Sam read on. "Okay, fine. I'll take your word for it."

"Until we have some indication of who has him and where," Steve pointed out, "trying to mount a rescue would be pointless. We need more intel."

"I know where a lot of the HYDRA bases are located," Bucky pointed out the obvious. "And Romanov has a handle on the Red Room. You should call her in."

"My security protocols forbid it." JARVIS said, and went silent.

The three of them exchanged looks, then stood as one.

They were silent for a beat, and Bucky visibly restrained himself from putting his fist through the wall. "I'm going down to the gym," he told them. "Call me if you find anything."

Steve was tempted to follow him, but he knew better.

His first priority needed to be getting JARVIS to speak to him again. Without the AI's cooperation, anything he tried to do to help get Tony back was as likely to hinder as to help.

He was at a loss for how to do that, though.


	7. [Bucky]

He spent the first half hour doing his best to tire himself out. It took a lot of work.

When he finally felt like the energy building inside him wasn't going to make him explode under the pressure, he stopped, gasping for air, and let himself slump to the floor in the center of the gym.

JARVIS had said nothing throughout his intense workout, and that hadn't registered on him until after he'd decided he was done. Even in his anger, JARVIS had continued to look out for him, and for Steve, really. Had kept an eye on them during their attempts to work off their frustration in the gym, alone or together. Had stepped in when they invariably took things too far. 

This time he hadn't, even though Bucky had been pushing his limits quite harshly.

Once he'd caught his breath, Bucky decided it was time. He might still be more than a little pissed at Stark over what he'd pulled, but this took precedence over whatever anger he might still feel. And anyway, he'd quickly found that he liked Tony. Liked his snappy quips and his generosity of spirit. Bucky had done some digging once Stark had finished fixing up his arm, the man's reaction to his comment about the blood on his own hands continuing to nag at Bucky's thoughts. He'd reacted as though he knew what that meant. And the information Bucky had found on the 'net had confirmed that. The 'Merchant of Death' had become 'Iron Man', and that transformation had, much like Bucky's own after his escape from HYDRA, involved trying to wash rivers of blood off his hands.

He'd talked it over briefly with Sam afterward, wanting to be sure of what he'd read. He knew how the media liked to twist things.

"JARVIS," he said, bringing his thoughts back on track, "I know you're pissed at me, but do me a favor and don't do this thing you're doing."

"I don't know what you mean, Sergeant."

"Yeah, exactly."

He got no reply to that for a long moment. Eventually, JARVIS said slowly, as though weighing his words, "I will grant you leniency, Sergeant, as you ask. But do not push this particular boundary again. My protocols might not restrict me from harming anyone, but I do prefer to keep the violence to a minimum."

Bucky had to suppress a shiver at the thought. "Well, keep Stark from pulling this bullshit again, then," he retorted. "He's not exactly blameless in this interpersonal disaster. Now get me a map."

Without another word, JARVIS opened an interactive holographic map at his fingertips. Bucky, doing his damnedest to keep the memories in their box, began zooming in and out, marking bases and regions of interest. JARVIS offered no suggestions or commentary, though Bucky could tell several of the locations he marked surprised the AI.

When he was, at length, finished, JARVIS finally broke his silence. "Might I suggest making your way up to the communal kitchen, Sergeant?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"You have just expended quite a lot of energy. It would be prudent to remedy that."

It appeared that JARVIS was going a step beyond setting aside the grudge he'd been holding and going back to trying to make sure Bucky kept himself fighting fit. As though Bucky would be the one to go after Tony and haul him home rather than Steve.

Choosing not to say anything on the subject -- it was never smart to alienate allies of any kind, and much less when you were still the subject of a worldwide manhunt -- Bucky shrugged. He had made a comment to that effect when Stark had run off. "I guess you have a point. We got any leftovers?"

"The Captain has just placed his own order. Shall I double it?"

Bucky laughed. Now that was just transparent. "Why not."

JARVIS wanted him to talk to Steve. What he wanted Bucky to talk to Steve about wasn't as obvious.

That in no way went counter to what Bucky had been planning for his own next step, though, so he accepted the fairly blatant play without argument.

Steve needed to have his own talk with JARVIS, and it was clear he hadn't yet. Then they needed to start their search in earnest. He'd been serious about calling in the Widow.

\------

Convincing Steve that he needed to get JARVIS back on sides had been simpler than Bucky had expected. So had following through. Convincing Steve that he needed to call in the Widow, however, had been harder.

"Steve," Bucky tried for what felt like the thousandth time. "Call. Her."

"Bucky, she's _busy_. I can't." Steve had his stubborn face on. "And anyway, Fury's--"

Luckily Bucky had known the punk for years. "Steve, for fuck's sake," he interrupted, ignoring Steve's automatic protest. "Shut up for a damned minute and listen to me. Widow's part of SHIELD. Part of the tiny portion of SHIELD that wasn't HYDRA. She helped you burn that to the ground. Ever since that invasion you told me about, she's been working with you to keep the world from going up in flames. Tell me how getting Stark back isn't critical to that. Tell me how she can afford to ignore the kidnapping of not only a former teammate but also one of the richest and most influential men on the goddamn planet." He paused for a beat while Steve gaped at him, then added. "Exactly. We need her on this, Steve, and she needs to know it's happened. I know for a fact that JARVIS and Ms. Potts have been keeping it out of the media so far, but they can't do that forever."

"Our smokescreen will last a week at most," JARVIS offered. "Sir is not one to go long periods of time without making some kind of headline."

With a pained groan, Steve gave in. "Fine. Call her."

JARVIS' silence seemed to have a smug edge to it.

Bucky nodded. "I knew you'd see sense. Now finish your lo mein and come on. We need to have a slightly more private talk."


	8. [Steve]

Bucky wasn't going to let him escape that private talk, and Steve knew it. Bucky never did know how to give up when he got an idea in his head. "Just how private does this need to be," he asked sardonically.

"We're going up to the roof."

Steve knew for a fact that JARVIS had cameras up there, but there were no microphones. Bucky clearly meant very private. He followed Bucky into the elevator in silence, trying to work out just what Bucky needed to say that he wanted to keep private from JARVIS.

The silence didn't break until they were out on the roof, and Bucky had taken up a pose, leaning against the railing. He'd stared at the horizon for a minute that felt more like ten, and then turned his back to it and spoken. "Steve, look. I know this whole mess is my fault."

Steve tried to protest, but Bucky glared at him until he quieted without voicing the words. 

"It is. If I hadn't come back when I had, you'd still have your boyfriend and Stark wouldn't have been kidnapped thanks to his own distraction."

"And if you hadn't," Steve countered that, "I'd still be searching for you, like the rest of the world, and it would be that that strained things between me and Tony instead."

"See, it comes back to me again." Bucky maintained his point. "Anyway. I had a talk with JARVIS earlier."

"You what?" Steve eyed his friend. This was an unexpected development. "What do you mean, you had a talk with JARVIS?"

"I _mean_ I had a talk with him." Bucky shrugged. "He was upset that Stark got taken, and that you were ignoring Stark. And I didn't see what was happening until it was too late, either. But we're working it out. If we're going to try to get Stark back, it might be smart if you did the same."

Steve looked lost for a long moment before he admitted, "I dunno how."

\------

In the end, it took then two months to make any kind of progress. Pepper was at her wit's end trying to keep the Board in line, and the media was making all kinds of wild speculations. The story that they'd used initially to keep things under wraps, that Tony had decided to go on sabbatical to focus on his green energy designs, had lasted about ten days, all told. Then somehow, the information had leaked that he wasn't on sabbatical and hiding out in his workshop, but, in fact, missing. Pepper and JARVIS hadn't been able to pin down who had leaked the information, either. Their attempt to secure the workshop had been successful.

Natasha, who'd shown up mere hours after Steve had called her, had been of the opinion that whoever had taken Tony had leaked the information. She'd also lectured Steve for nearly half an hour about not letting her know that he'd found Bucky.

Bucky had agreed with her assessment and then watched her yell at Steve, amused. He'd also gone out into the field with her, to trace out several of their more promising leads. JARVIS had been busy keeping an electronic eye on all the places Bucky had pointed out to him, and when she'd found out about that, Natasha had added another dozen or so potential locations.

Their break hadn't come from any of their own efforts, though.

Just over 15 hours ago, Coulson had contacted Natasha with the news that there was someone referred to only as 'the Mechanic', who'd recently started designing for HYDRA, and that he was even better than AIM's Scientist Supreme. 

That bit of news had gotten Natasha's attention immediately, and she'd started doing some digging. Steve had just let her, skeptical but willing to trust her instincts. Bucky was as sure as she was that this was finally a solid lead they could follow, and generally acting like a leashed hound just waiting to be let loose.

It had taken them another week to narrow down this new designer's location enough to act.

Bucky's reaction to that had been worrying, to say the least. Steve had watched his best friend go pale and then scowl darkly. "That's where they kept me," was all he could be persuaded to say, his tone just short of a growl.

And so Steve had found himself on a quinjet with the two of them, all of them kitted out in the heaviest armour they had and carrying their heaviest weapons.

The flight was set to take another three hours, and Bucky wasn't going to be good for any kind of conversation, until after things were settled. Steve could tell by the way his friend was seemingly locked in place as he stared out the cockpit window from his seat next to Natasha.

Steve settled back in his own seat and made himself think this mission through one more time. They would be following Bucky's lead on this. Bucky was their inside man, in that he knew the base and its layout, as well as the places that were likely to house patrols or laboratories.

He and Natasha were here to back Bucky up and provide additional firepower, if needed. Steve suspected they were about to see a display of the Winter Soldier's abilities unparalleled in its ferocity. Not just because HYDRA had (probably) taken Tony, but because they'd (probably) taken him _here_ of all places. That they'd (probably) taken Tony to the very base where they'd tortured Bucky... That they'd (probably) subjected him to God only knew what manner of torture to get him to break and design weapons again. Steve bit back a wince.

The thought was making him start to see red, himself. Carefully unclenching his fists, Steve forced himself to take a long slow breath. He needed to keep his cool. Bucky wasn't likely to, and at least one of them needed to stay focused.

The part in all this that was making Steve wonder whether they were in the right place, though, was the description of this guy. Everything about it was simultaneously spot-on and wrong. He sounded much too young to be Tony, for all that his skills and looks seemed to be a match.

That had visibly made alarm bells go off in Bucky's head when he'd heard it. It had been clear to Bucky that either they'd found Tony and HYDRA had done something to him -- like give him the serum they gave Bucky -- or it would turn out to be someone else entirely. Neither was an outcome that they wanted, really.

Steve wasn't as convinced as Bucky about any of those theories, but he wanted this to be Tony.

Partially so that Bucky would be a little less on edge.

But mostly so that he'd have Tony back.

He definitely owed Tony an apology, if nothing else, and he did want to see if they could still work things out. For better or worse he _cared_.


	9. [Bucky]

Even being in the same province as this place was making his skin want to crawl right off his body. The thought that Tony might be here, that he might be HYDRA's captive scientist... Bucky bit back a furious growl.

Steve had willingly given him the lead on this mission, and Bucky knew that must have cost him something. He hoped fiercely that this would be successful. That he could blow this place to smithereens and get Tony back, to boot. If they failed... well, Bucky forced himself not to think about that. There would be Consequences.

Hell, there would surely be some even if they pulled this off.

Widow cautiously brought the quinjet in for landing a klick away from the base's location. They wanted the jet to still be intact after they blew the charges they were carrying, after all, and not to set off the base's alarms before they had a chance to get there.

Bucky felt a visceral shudder go through him. Just being back on the ground in the vicinity of this place was enough to make him want to slip back into that blank mindset. Even now, it was more comfortable than 'Bucky.' It was also the last thing he wanted.

"Buck," Steve prompted him, making him realise he was still in his seat, "you alright?"

Standing and checking his weapons one last time, Bucky let a savage grin take hold. "Let's go blow this place up. I could do with a bit of stress relief."

Widow raised an eloquent eyebrow at him. 

Ignoring the commentary, Bucky stepped over to the hatch at the rear of the craft and slapped at the button to open it. "Let's get going."

He stepped off the edge of the loading ramp, and onto the familiar mossy ground of the forest floor. The other two followed, and Steve made sure to close up the hatch again before he engaged the jet's optical camouflage. Bucky only waited until he was sure they were ready and done messing with the jet's features before he strode off into the forest he remembered only too well. They'd landed almost due west of the base, taking advantage of the jet's vertical takeoff and landing capabilities to set it down in a tiny clearing. Picking his way eastward through the trees silently, Bucky did his damnedest to mentally prepare himself. Given that he was unnerved just being in the area, he wasn't sure how actually seeing the base again would affect him.

Having Steve and Widow at his back helped, somewhat to his surprise. Sure, he was back in the place that haunted his nightmares now that he had his memories restored by the serum, but he had allies, now, and that made all the difference in the world. If nothing else, it made this hike _different_ , and kept him from drowning in memories of the other times he'd made the trek alone.

They'd crossed the intervening distance almost before Bucky was aware of it, and he nearly stumbled into the field of view of one of the perimeter cameras.

Calling an abrupt halt and catching their eyes, he pointed it out to them. After they acknowledged -- Bucky was sure Widow had already spotted it, but Steve hadn't -- Bucky carefully skirted the area the camera was trained on, and waited until the others followed him.

Less than a minute later, the base entrance came into view. Its lower half sunk below the ground level and the rest buried under a mound of compacted earth for insulation from the sub-arctic cold, the door was all but invisible, unless you knew what to look for. Bucky had to close his eyes for a moment, as memories seemed to ring in his ears. Shouts in angry Russian, his own screams, commands, demands for compliance, briefings, assumed names and personas, and weapons drills mingled into an unintelligible din of sound only he could hear.

It was the hand that fell on his shoulder that helped him break free again. Steve was there, silent, waiting until he could be sure Bucky was present again. Putting his gloved metal hand over Steve's, he nodded. Catching Steve's eyes, he signed. _Point of entry; I go here; come; column formation._ [1]

There was, strictly speaking, no need to be silent, but it felt wrong to give the directions aloud. Some instinct was insisting that they were being watched, for all that Bucky was sure they'd avoided being detected by the cameras. Steve accepted Bucky's apparent need for silence, though, simply nodding to show that he understood. Once Widow was confident Bucky was fine, she stepped past them and deftly bypassed the lock on the door.

He'd never thought to question it before, but after his exposure to Tony and the tech he designed Bucky saw just how old and obsolete that lock really was. A simple number pad and a deadbolt wasn't nearly enough to stop someone like the Widow. Or him, really, had he chosen to try.

The fact that Tony -- if it was indeed him -- hadn't broken out of a place with security this terrible... Bucky growled under his breath and took the lead again. That was a bad sign. If Tony was here, he was almost certainly incapacitated somehow. He'd escaped the Ten Rings. Bucky had found that much out from Tony's file. He should have been able to get out of here if he was himself.

Leading Steve and Widow down the narrow, dimly lit spiral staircase, Bucky made sure to place his feet carefully. These stairs creaked loudly if you didn't put your weight in just the right spot.

In the end his caution was for nothing. They walked right into a patrol at the foot of the steps, and a chorus of startled shouts went up. Steve and Bucky reacted quickly, and five of the seven men were out cold in under a minute. Widow dealt with the last two deftly, but not before one managed to set off an alarm that felt like it was shivering through Bucky's bones and reverberating in his skull. 

Well, now there was no way they could make themselves heard, even shouting. Groaning and knowing the sound would simply disappear under the wailing of that damned klaxon, Bucky started down the corridor -- resisting the temptation to put his hands over his ears -- confident that the others would follow.

He knew this base. Knew it far better than he wanted to, even now. Bucky led Steve and Widow through the maze-like corridors to the areas that were reserved for the 'doctors' and 'scientists' who had had control over his conditioning. The memories made him shake with the effort of holding himself back. He needed to keep his rage under control until they'd found Tony, or whoever the Mechanic was. Once they'd done that, he could give it free rein.

They encountered three more squads along the way, all as easily dispatched as the first. 

The thing that finally brought them all up short was the suit of armour that stepped out into the corridor to face them down coldly.

[1] [Image link](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/71/67/2a/71672a43ce86d97d8e50b26663d9467c.jpg) to the military sign language Bucky's using.


	10. [Steve]

Bucky was clearly distracted, and Steve could tell it wasn't just because of the alarm that was still blaring. To his relief it had been growing quieter as they worked their way into the base, but it was still more than enough to drown out any attempt at vocal communications.

Contenting himself with keeping a close eye on Bucky as well as their surroundings, Steve swallowed back his apprehensions and followed his friend, and let the knowledge that Natasha was at his back soothe his nerves a little. He'd been doing his best to keep track of where they were, relative to the entrance of the base, but the identical corridors were disorienting. Probably designed to be, as a defensive measure and a way to keep their 'subjects' from escaping.

The three squads of goons that they encountered along the way were a distraction, but not enough of one to slow them down much. All three lasted under a minute against the combined ferocity of the Winter Soldier and Captain America. Steve could tell that Bucky was holding back, though. He wasn't fighting all out like he had when Steve had encountered him in DC. While they fought, clearing the way deeper into the base, Widow was carefully checking each room they passed, ransacking them for any information she could steal and destroying what she couldn't take with her.

Moments after Steve refocused on the corridor ahead of them, the dim lights not doing the grimy walls and floor any favors, Bucky stopped short.

Steve nearly collided with him, when he spotted what his friend had. There was a suit of armour half hidden in the shadows. Or, that was to say, there had been. It had stepped out to block the corridor bodily with its bulk, and stare them down with its impassive mask.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore: they'd found Tony.

This wasn't the reunion Steve had been half hoping for, though. Tony didn't seem to recognise them. He didn't speak, either.

The klaxon finally shut off, then, leaving them in ringing silence, and Steve winced, feeling deafened and not liking it. It was too reminiscent of those hazy days before he'd gotten the serum.

"Stark," Widow tried, approaching him carefully. "We are not here to fight you."

She got no answer. She knew better than to push for one, too, just standing there steadily and holding Tony's eyes through the mask. The tension seemed to rise with each passing moment, but Steve knew it was just his awareness that the next squad of goons might appear any second and break the tentative stalemate.

It took Tony almost a full minute to reply. "You are trespassing."

The flat tone and simple factual statement reminded him so strongly of the blank mask Bucky had worn in DC that Steve found himself clenching his hands so tightly around his shield and pistol that they ached. Those were memories he'd have been perfectly happy to forget.

"We are looking for you," Widow replied, her tone as level as always. "Will you come with us?"

Steve wasn't sure what tipped him off to the conflict behind that blank mask, but he could tell it was there.

After a beat, Tony spoke. "My orders are to eliminate you."

Bucky cursed roundly, and Steve restrained the impulse to do the same. This was going to get messy. They'd be trying to incapacitate Tony, and he'd be fighting to kill. It was the farthest thing from a good situation, tactically or emotionally.

Bucky broke left and Steve right, flanking Widow where she stood, as she continued staring down Tony. "Remember this later, Stark," she told him. "We did not want to fight you."

The statement got a growl out of Tony, distorted oddly by the voice synthesizer he'd incorporated in this armour, as he had all his others. "That isn't my name," he declared, and attacked.

The suit he wore seemed to light up around him as it powered up, the design totally different from the one Steve had gotten used to seeing, and yet fundamentally the same.

The familiar sound of repulsors charging up interrupted his thoughts and had him on his guard immediately. 

He decided to treat this as a particularly vicious no holds barred sparring session. He'd always managed to outlast Tony in those before, and he didn't want to injure Tony if he could avoid it. They were three anyway, and Tony was on his own. Well, until the inevitable squads of HYDRA reinforcements showed up.

Bucky moved the moment he saw Tony's hands come up, tucking into a roll that would take him into Tony's blind spot. Steve took advantage of the move to close with Tony, himself, trying to keep Tony's attention on him and give Bucky time to act.

It halfway worked. Widow took the opportunity to sprint past them, a darker streak against the mud brown walls, with her share of the explosives. She snatched Steve's share off his belt as she passed him, and Tony reacted.

Moving faster than Steve had thought possible for him, Tony twisted at the waist and fired at her rather than Steve, who was pressing his advantage as hard as he dared. With a cry that mingled pain and surprise, Widow tucked herself into a ball and rolled a few meters. She lay there, groaning, but Steve didn't have time to worry about her.

Tony had apparently decided she was down, and turned to take on Bucky instead. Bucky's expression was shifting oddly, as he cautiously circled Tony.

"They want you the most, you know," Tony told him, breaking his silence.

Bucky huffed. "I know." A flicker of a smirk crossed his features as he continued circling to his left for every step Tony took. That was their only saving grace, Steve realised. Here in the corridor, Tony couldn't take full advantage of his ability to fly. Bucky continued speaking after a beat. "They took you because of me, you know," he told Tony, clearly probing for a reaction.

He got one, too. Tony snarled at him wordlessly and rushed him, trying to pin Bucky in a corner of the corridor. It didn't work. Bucky's smirk grew and he leapt into the air, vaulting over the armour and landing on its back. His metal arm went around Tony's armoured neck, and he hung on with grim determination.

Tony tried to get him loose once, then decided Bucky wasn't a threat where he was and turned his attention back to taking out Steve.


	11. [Bucky]

Bucky wasn't about to let Tony just go after Steve. While Steve brought his shield up, deflecting Tony's shots and fighting entirely defensively, Bucky took advantage of his position, draped across Tony's armoured back, and used his free hand to try to find a chink in the armour. He knew that Iron Man had some emergency releases near his chin, and was betting that this armour did, too. Even if the armour itself was damned good, there was always a chance Tony would need to ditch it. HYDRA knew that principle, after all. They never risked anything they didn't have to, including their best tools. They'd thrown him to the wind a couple of times, in fact. Just left him to fend for himself at the end of a particularly high-risk mission rather than giving him a rendezvous point or assigning him an extraction team. If he'd made it back to base, that would have been a bonus, and if not, well, he had fallen into the category of 'acceptable losses.'

They were sure to have given Tony similar commands, if Bucky was any kind of judge. And judging by the lack of goons showing up to assist him, this was likely a situation where HYDRA was either prepared to sacrifice Tony, or playing a long game and hoping to capture them somehow. Or maybe both.

As he finished the thought, the Widow breezed back into the fight as though she'd never been injured, taking some of Tony's attention off Steve and Bucky gave up his still-fruitless search in favor of dropping lightly to his feet and trying to tackle Tony to the floor, armour and all.

It worked, too, and that was a bit unfortunate.

Rather than let Bucky pin him, Tony fired the jets mounted in his armour's boots, and sent them skidding down the corridor, not caring that he was scraping and gouging both his armour and the concrete floor. Bucky yelped and leapt free. He did _not_ want to be at Tony's mercy. Much less dragged along the floor like a man behind a horse. That was a recipe for injuries he didn't want to have to try to compensate for in this fight.

Tony cut the jets almost immediately after Bucky freed himself, but couldn't stop his forward momentum before he slammed into the wall at the end of the corridor. He stayed there for a moment, dazed.

Bucky took the opportunity to unholster his as yet unused pistol and use it to take out Tony's bootjets. Two shots fired into each one left them a sparking useless mess. 

Tony growled as he picked himself up. "You're going to regret that," he told Bucky, the voice modulator making his voice dark and angry. His palm repulsor began charging again, and Bucky winced. Taking careful aim, he fired again, this time at the bright flash of light.

It resulted in a small explosion that sent him flying backwards into Steve. They went down in a tangled heap, and Widow leapt nimbly over them, her Widow's Bites at the ready. She dodged a shot that could have taken her arm off at the shoulder as she went, then jumped up to rebound off the wall and launch herself at Tony. 

"The Winter Soldier tried that," Tony told her, as she made contact. "He failed." He didn't even stagger under her weight, and instead tried to pry her loose with the hand Bucky had damaged.

It left a tiny opening in Tony's guard that Steve leapt on. He took the opportunity to tackle Tony from the side and send him to the floor face first. Widow rode the armour to the floor, fluidly keeping her balance in a way that made Bucky envious, and pulled a tiny device out of a compartment on her belt. She attached it to the neck plates of the armour and jumped back, hauling Steve up bodily as she went. It was no mean feat to do that, either. Bucky would know. He'd hauled the asshole out of the Potomac.

The move came not a moment too soon, either. As Tony was picking himself up off the floor, whatever Widow had used activated. It seemed to emit a pulse of blue light, and Bucky felt his left arm go dead. An EMP grenade. Jesus.

After a beat, wherein the armour didn't light back up, Widow stepped over to it and rolled Tony onto his back. He snarled at her, fighting to lift his arms and fight back despite the resistance of the servos. He did a decent job of it, too, but he was no match for the Widow. As Bucky warily watched her deal with Tony, he felt his arm slowly come back online, thanks to his lack of physical proximity to the grenade when it had gone off and the upgrades Tony had made before he'd been taken.

It was a bizarre sensation, sending tingles up his spine to lodge at the nape of his neck. Like his arm had fallen asleep but been displaced in a very physical way. He winced to himself when the servos and actuators ground and complained rather than articulating smoothly. He'd have to get it fixed up after this, and if Tony wasn't up to it, that could mean he'd be stuck with the damage until Tony recovered. Which could take anywhere from a week to a year or possibly not happen at all.

The sight that met their eyes when she pried the faceplate up, though... That was a bit of a shock, even though Bucky had been more than half expecting it. That was Tony alright, but he looked about 25 years old, rather than the dignified 42 he really was. Bloody fucking hell.

Unsurprisingly, he was also spitting mad that they'd managed to get the drop on him long enough to deactivate his suit.

Standing, Widow beckoned Steve over. "Cap," she said, ignoring his swearing and curses, "you'll have to carry him out. That armour he's wearing is down for now, but I wouldn't put it past him to find a way to power it back up."

Steve eyed Tony for a moment, then complied. He hooked his hands under the armour's armpits and hauled it up off the concrete floor until he could put an arm around Tony's waist and crouch to toss the armour over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. In the process, he kept Tony turned carefully away from him, ignoring any and all protests as he got the armour situated in a way that still left him free to fight if it became necessary. "You get the charges planted?" He asked, and Bucky realised why Widow had gone down so hard. She'd been playing possum, and he'd bought it. Tony had too, which had given her all the opening she’d needed to go finish the job they'd set themselves.

Bucky wanted to shake his head. He needed to stop underestimating her. "Let's get out of here before we're caught in the boom, then."

Steve nodded and took off for the surface. Bucky followed, watching their backs and calling out course corrections occasionally when Steve hesitated over which turn to take. Widow paced him easily, and they kept an eye out for anyone that wanted to try taking a pot shot at them as they left.

The problem came as they approached the door they'd used to enter the underground base. In the small foyer they'd passed through on their way in, the squad they'd knocked out had vanished. In its place stood five more, armed to the teeth and taking up most of the space in the room. It would hinder them as much as it did the pair of Avengers and ex-Winter Soldier, though. They opened fire the moment they caught sight of Steve, ignoring the fact that he was carrying Tony and confirming Bucky's suspicions that this had been a well-baited trap. "Cap," he shouted over the rattle of gunfire and occasional blast of energy weapons, "leave them to us and get him the fuck out of here! We don't have time for this!"

Tony, stubborn fuck that he was, tried to struggle free. Weighed down by his armour, he didn't manage, though. The servos and hydraulics that were so effective in making the armour as light as a second skin, as long as it had power, resisted his movements when it didn't. He barely succeeded in lifting his arms before Steve took off again, trusting in Bucky and Widow to deal with the goons. 

Bucky hoped that Steve would do the smart thing and get his sorry ass to the jet with Tony, even though he knew that was unlikely to happen. Exchanging a glance with Widow, he called, "got any more of those EMPs?"

She gave him a wicked smirk and pulled one out of that same compartment on her belt, activated it, and threw it down the corridor. It landed in the middle of the room, and suddenly all the ray guns were silent. The goons with normal guns redoubled their attempt to pin him down but Bucky wasn't known as one of the world's best snipers for nothing.

This time the EMP was far enough from him not to knock out his arm again, so Bucky occupied himself by taking out his pistol and implacably shooting into the crowd with his left hand. He dropped as many men as he had bullets, one by one. They all had nonlethal wounds, but each and every one was out of the fight. A few return bullets pinged off his arm uselessly, and went on to impact the wall behind him. When he'd whittled down the room as much as he could and his pistol's slide had racked back and locked, Widow had wordlessly tossed him her spare magazines.

Ejecting his own and shoving it hastily into the loop on his belt meant for it, Bucky reloaded his gun and continued firing. Of course, by now the goons had wised up to his strategy and were taking cover. Widow had turned to him and waved another charge of some kind at him, raising an eloquent eyebrow. Not knowing what it did, and not particularly caring, either, Bucky had nodded, and ducked back behind his own cover.

Widow threw the charge, and within moments it seemed like all the remaining goons had been goosed with a cattle prod. They straightened with startled shouts and did their best to find something to stand on that was not the floor. Bucky happily took advantage of the chaos to shoot another six of them, and Widow decided that was good enough. "Come on," she called, and charged down the corridor.

Bucky laughed to himself and followed. He _liked_ her style. Why had Steve resisted calling her in?

They finished off the fight as Steve hurried back down the stairs, sans armoured captive. Bucky wanted to punch the moron for leaving Tony on his own. Even if the armour was down, that was a terrible idea.

Widow beat him to the punch, whacking Steve as she hurried past him and up the stairs. Rubbing at his head he stared after her for a beat. Bucky took the opportunity to repeat the move, getting a very satisfying yelp out of Steve because he used his metal hand. "What was that for?" He yelled, hurrying after them.

"For being an idiot," Widow yelled back, as she shouldered the door open. "Where'd you leave Stark?"

"Right here," Tony replied, tackling her bodily into a tree.


	12. [Steve]

Steve winced. He was going to get an earful from Natasha about this later.

He'd known leaving Tony -- even with the suit down and Tony more or less pinned in place by it -- was probably a bad idea. He'd known that. But he'd done it anyway, more worried about her and Bucky than the possibility that Tony would try to escape.

He'd been right, too. Tony _hadn't_ tried to escape.

But, Steve had to admit, this wasn't much better.

Tony had managed to get his armour working again, and immediately taken every advantage of that to lay an ambush and try to take out one of them. Natasha was going to verbally flay him over this later, Steve was sure.

Bucky launched himself into Tony's side, using his body weight and momentum to pull Tony off Natasha, and pinning Tony to the ground. Steve hastily followed suit, adding his body weight to Bucky's, and wondering why it didn't feel weird to do that.

It probably should have.

Shoving the thoughts aside, he focused on pinning Tony's legs, and left the rest to Bucky. Even with the two of them working in concert, Tony gave them a run for their money. He managed to throw Bucky off his back twice and Steve once before they finally pinned him in a hold he couldn't get free of. Natasha, who had no mini EMP grenades left, gave Steve a long irritated look.

He could only give her back his best sheepish -- and suitably chastised -- expression. Nevermind that both of them knew he would just go on his merry way as he always had, but the forms had to be observed.

"Come on, boys," she decided after a beat. "We need to get the hell out of here before the charges go off."

"How much time do we have?" Bucky asked her.

"About ten minutes."

Steve made a face. That would have been plenty of time to get back to the quinjet if Tony wasn't fighting them. Given that he was... this extraction could get hairy. Tony chose that moment to try to heave them off his back again with what little leverage he could get against the ground, and, thanks to the armour, nearly succeeded.

Widow eyed them for a moment. "You two stay here and keep him contained," she suggested in a tone of voice that made it more like a command. "I'll get the jet and pick you up."

"Got it," Steve replied, "go."

"You think it'll be that easy?" Tony asked, his voice muffled slightly by the moss he was pinned to. "Do you?"

Bucky laughed at him. "Hardly. But we have JARVIS to help us with the technological side of things."

Steve was suddenly _very_ thankful that Bucky had insisted he apologize to the AI. That move suddenly made a lot more sense, and Steve felt like an idiot for having overlooked that aspect of their mission to retrieve Tony until now. Without the AI's assistance in keeping Tony under control, the flight back to New York would have been an extremely risky proposition. If they lost control of Tony aboard the jet, all it would take would be one repulsor blast -- maybe two at most -- and they would be lost at sea while Tony casually flew back to wherever HYDRA wanted him to.

Biting back a wince, Steve threw his support behind Bucky. "You probably don't remember who that is," he put in, "but we'll remind you."

"Why the fuck would I remember who that is?" Tony swore at them, bucking viciously once more in a last-ditch effort to get free. Now that they'd outright told him they could control his armour once they got him in range of JARVIS, Tony knew he was on a time limit.

Luckily, so were they. All they needed to do was keep a hold on him until Natasha could get the jet. Steve and Bucky managed to ride out the abrupt movements, though it took some work.

Steve could see that Bucky was pained by the question, though. And so was he, hearing the echoes of Bucky's demands before he'd regained his memories.

_Who the hell is Bucky?_

Not bothering to hide his wince this time, Steve admitted to himself that Tony might as well ask, _Who the fuck am I,_ if he didn't remember JARVIS. The AI was almost a part of him, their routines and lives were so intertwined. Well. They had been, before Tony had been taken.

What would happen now, was anyone's guess.

Thankfully for his state of mind, which was starting to take a dive toward the melancholy, the sound of the jet's repulsor-aided engines broke him out of that train of thought.

With another wordless growl, Tony made one more last-ditch attempt to get free. It nearly worked, too. Bucky lost his grip on Tony's arms, and Steve found himself having to somehow keep his grip and evade the blows suddenly raining down on his head and shoulders. Even his body armour, as good as it was, couldn't block the force behind those hits, which landed with the full strength of the armour behind them. Steve managed to avoid the first few, but Tony managed to catch him with a glancing blow to the temple before Bucky tackled him to the ground again.

Dazed, Steve simply tightened his grip and held on, following Bucky's lead on this one. Bucky waited until Natasha set the jet down, then gathered up Tony's torso, his grip on Tony's arms loosening only slightly before he had them pinned to Tony's sides, and then he caught Steve's attention. "Come on. Before he tries that a third time."

Rather than let Tony's feet go and risk Tony lashing out again, Steve just hoisted him up and followed Bucky, hurrying aboard the quinjet.

The moment they were past the hatch of the loading ramp, Natasha closed it after them and gunned the engines, sending them back into the air and soaring away from the base. Almost simultaneously, Steve felt the joints of the armour go rigid.

Tony made an almost betrayed sound.

"Well done, Captain," JARVIS said, breaking his comms silence now that Steve was back on the jet and in range of JARVIS' communications once more. "I have control of the armour systems. They are not as different as the Sergeant feared."

Steve looked sharply at Bucky. That was not a concern that his friend had shared with him.

Unaware of Steve's thoughts, JARVIS went on. "I must caution you not to underestimate Sir, however. Even in this state."

"Yeah, we'd noticed that already." Bucky retorted, giving Tony a mild glare that bounced right off without making the slightest impression in the face of Tony's attempts to unlock the joints of his suit. 

Tony relaxed, then, seemingly giving up his fight. Steve eyed him warily. That was sure to be deception. Either his attempt had worked and Tony was waiting for an opportune moment to make good his escape, or Tony had decided to conserve his strength and wait for them to make another mistake.

Steve settled in to stand guard. He had no intention of letting that happen.

Not now that they finally had him back.


	13. [Tony]

Biting back the snarl that stuck in his throat, the Mechanic stared straight ahead as the jet took off vertically, its attitude staying level with the horizon until they were several tens of meters in the air, and then jolting underfoot as the pilot -- the Black Widow, his mission briefing told him -- opened up the throttle. Who- or whatever had control of his suit lowered the faceplate again, and the Mechanic wasn't sure whether that was intended for the protection of the other occupants of the jet or not.

He couldn't turn his head anyway, thanks to whatever it was that had locked down the joints of his suit. Captain America was standing just in range of his peripheral vision, obviously keeping watch, his shield in its harness on his back. The Winter Soldier -- his primary target after the Captain -- sat in the copilot's seat, speaking quietly into the radio. The Mechanic could hear him, though he couldn't quite make out the words over the (weirdly familiar) whine of the jet's engines.

He stopped worrying at the reason for the familiarity of the sound -- he'd never been in this type of jet before, so how was it possible that he knew it well enough to identify their altitude and airspeed? -- and focused on trying to regain control of his armour.

Whatever had locked the joints of his suit was implacable, though. Every time he thought he'd gotten past the barriers it had put up, a new set sprang up.

After approximately half an hour, the Mechanic stopped, settling back to think up a few new ways around the walls blocking him from using his armour.

He'd only come up with five by the time the shoreline of the United States appeared in view, and he decided to keep those to himself for the time being. There would come a moment when their guard would slip, and that was when he'd try them.

"Come on, Cap," Black Widow finally broke her silence to say. "Let's get him down to floor 79. JARVIS, clear the way for us, please, and alert anyone in the correct clearance brackets."

"Alerting Ms. Potts," a clipped and proper English voice replied, "I have taken the liberty of preparing a draft report to be submitted to SHIELD at the appropriate time. I would recommend waiting a minimum of two to three days before doing so."

No one replied to the suggestion verbally but the Mechanic saw both the Captain and the Soldier exchange a glance and nod.

As the words faded out of the air, the armour, which had previously been locked tight around him, began moving, forcing him along. The Mechanic attempted to resist, but his strength wasn't enough to overpower the hydraulics he'd built into his suit. The parts he'd had access to when he'd built his armour had been cruder than he'd have preferred, and as a result the armour was built more for brute force than for any kind of delicate task. That was working against him now. He might have been able to regain control of the suit he'd _wanted_ to build, but this one packed enough power that he couldn't.

Rather than waste his strength, he focused on mapping out the areas he was taken through and comparing them to the Tower blueprints he'd been given to study prior to the Avengers' attack on his home base.

When the doors of the freight elevator slid open and he was firmly 'escorted' in, the Mechanic didn't resist. That was the best way to make them uneasy. He knew that none of them would believe he was cowed. And he wasn't. But he could act the part until they gave him an opening to escape.

The elevator doors on the far side of the car opened a moment later, revealing a wide open foyer. The Mechanic scanned the space, looking for security measures and finding them: cameras in a variety of wavelengths and locations, audio pickups, keypads with far more than the usual grid of ten numbers on them, an interface that looked futuristic, even in this modern building, and a set of six-inch thick shatterproof glass walls that wouldn't have looked out of place in an aquarium.

The Captain and the Soldier got him across the threshold and well into the space beyond the glass before they stepped away.

Without a command from him, the faceplate of the armour retracted and the chestplate released. His startled twitch distracted him just enough that he missed the closing of the massive door of the space. After the door shut and audibly locked, the armour opened fully. The sudden relaxation of the restraints on his movement was almost abrupt enough to make him stagger as he was released from their hold. He watched warily as it walked over to take up a position beside the door of his new cage and go into low power mode, looking like an ominous sentry.

The armour was lost to him now. It was under the control of this JARVIS, and until he could get it back it was a threat to him, rather than a defense.

Free to do so, the Mechanic prowled around his prison, keeping a wary eye on the pair of his captors who had remained to watch him for a few minutes rather than simply leaving immediately.

The Mechanic decided to ignore them.

As cages went, it seemed fairly comfortable. The space was larger than it had looked on first glance, and brightly lit. There was a bed with soft linens tucked away from the glass wall. It was not out of sight, but sheltered somewhat. It would be acceptable. At least he wouldn't be kept awake all night by his instincts. The feeling of being watched lessened, but didn't disappear, and a glance at the space outside his cage revealed that the Captain and the Soldier had left.

There was no sign of food or water, but a few shelves of paper books with increasingly abstract and very technical titles lined one wall, intermingled with what appeared to be poetry and Russian literature.

HYDRA had never seen fit to indulge his professional curiosity, for all that they'd wanted him to continually improve his own designs and their weapons.

The Mechanic debated for a few long moments.

Should he?

He was surely being watched.

On the other hand, this was an unprecedented opportunity. If he could learn enough before he escaped, he might even be able to make his handlers see reason and get him access to some actually up-to-date journal articles or texts.

Making an impulsive decision, he reached for the first technical book he felt would potentially be applicable to his work -- a collection of peer-reviewed publications, albeit a slightly out-of-date one -- and took it to the sheltered corner which contained the bed. Opening it, he ran his fingertips down the titlepage, savoring the feeling of the smooth glossy paper. Something about it... He hadn't seen paper media for months, aside from his own blueprints and the hastily scribbled equations he wrote as his hand tried to keep up with his brain. He knew that was true like he knew he had two hands. And yet.

\-- _Tony, come on,_ \-- a voice seemed to echo through the gilded cage he'd been put in, -- _just because you hate paper books doesn't mean the rest of the world does._ \--

Shaking his head to clear it, the Mechanic set that aside to mull over later. It felt like a flicker of a memory, old and worn and faded, but who the fuck was Tony and why did he hate paper?

Flipping to the Table of Contents, the Mechanic let his eyes scan down the list of titles until one caught his attention. _Genetic engineering and biological weapons_ , written by Jan van Aken and Edward Hammond and published in EMBO Reports[1].

"Rapid developments in biotechnology, genetics and genomics are undoubtedly creating a variety of environmental, ethical, political and social challenges for advanced societies. But they also have severe implications for international peace and security because they open up tremendous avenues for the creation of new biological weapons." He read, making sure to keep his voice low, and did his best to bite back his anticipation.

This promised to be educational.

\------

[1] Before you ask, yes, this is a real publication. Link: [NCBI database](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1326447/). doi: 10.1038/sj.embor.embor860


	14. [Steve]

It took a day and a half for Tony to show signs of recognizing any of them as people he knew, rather than simply his captors, and even then, he only showed them when he was alone. Which was to say, only JARVIS saw them. In the interim, he, Bucky, and Sam did what they could to distract one another. They knew from Bucky's experiences -- of which he'd shared the bare bones with them -- that it was best not to overwhelm Tony with 'new' faces. 

Steve, frankly, wasn't sure he believed the news. It had taken far longer than thirty-six hours for Bucky to regain any memory of him, and it had been pretty obvious when he had.

But there was no denying, on the other hand, that Tony was outright fascinated by JARVIS.

Once he'd discovered that JARVIS was not a corporeal person, Tony's initial reaction had been one of well-hidden skepticism. Bucky had been the one to clue Tony in to that little fact, commenting on it in a rather oblique fashion. It hadn't taken long after Bucky had left for Tony to start questioning the AI about anything and everything with regards to his capabilities.

Most information had been off-limits, declared so by JARVIS until they could get Tony's memories back. But once Tony had worked out that JARVIS could see into the Hulk-proof room he'd been placed in, he'd gone still for a moment. Trying to work out whether the AI was a threat or not.

Steve had seen that clearly while watching the video logs JARVIS kept. He'd pointed it out to Sam, and gotten a thoughtful look from his friend. The consensus had been to let things play out.

That moment had been a turning point of some sort. Steve was convinced. Tony turned to other topics, when he found that JARVIS was far more forthcoming about them. The spent a lot of time discussing history and historical weaponry, since modern weaponry was another taboo topic. JARVIS didn't tell Tony why.

Steve could appreciate the irony.

He suspected Tony would, too, once he was back to normal.

Three more days passed that way, with JARVIS supplying Tony with meals and new reading material when Tony finished what was available on paper, and Steve and Bucky visiting him at regular intervals.

It was something of an emotional stalemate, really. He and Bucky were caught between the conflicting knowledge that Tony wasn't in a place where he would respond to them the way they wanted -- no, that wasn't quite accurate -- the knowledge that Tony wasn't in a place where he _could_ respond to them they way they wanted him to, and the knowledge that it would likely take quite some time before he could.

Tony was still treating them as enemies, and it was obvious, but every so often, a confused look would flit across his face. As though he wasn't sure _why_ he was fighting.

Another week went by in the same slightly tedious rhythm. Bucky sought him out more often than not, when he felt Steve had been awake for too long, and coerced him into his bed, climbing in after him, like they had when they'd been that pair of young punks living in a Brooklyn that hadn't existed in decades, now.

The crucial moment came some ten days after they'd managed to retrieve Tony: JARVIS alerted him and Bucky that Tony had collapsed and was unresponsive just after they'd finished their morning workout.

They'd exchanged a look, then dropped everything and sprinted.

Sam was out, probably enjoying the fall sun in Central Park. Bucky got there before he did, and stopped short in the doorway, cautious. Steve, who'd been right on Bucky's heels, nearly ran right into Bucky's back. "Buck, what's wrong?"

"Mechanic?" Bucky entered the room cautiously.

Steve could see why, after Bucky moved out of the doorway. Tony was nowhere to be seen. "Shit."

He followed Bucky, stepping through the door and stepping to his right. He kept his back to the wall and kept moving until he could see to the back of Hulk's cell.

"Mechanic, respond." Bucky's voice was tight, controlled.

It still gave away his worry to Steve, but Tony probably would attribute it to them wondering where he was.

Bucky stopped again in the middle of the room, staring fixedly at a point just out of Steve's sight, near the sheltered alcove that held the reinforced bed.

"Sir has not been responding to my attempts to get his attention," JARVIS told them solemnly, his voice subdued.

Bucky shook himself once from head to toe. It resembled a bone deep shudder, and made Steve want to pull his friend into his arms. Bucky looked like he was fighting not to get lost in his memories. He couldn't find the words to comfort Bucky, despite knowing him so well. Steve couldn't not offer comfort, though, so he compromised by putting a hand on Bucky's shoulder and squeezing gently. 

Eventually Bucky spoke, breaking the silence. "After DC," he said quietly, "it took a few weeks, and then everything overwhelmed me. It was like a dam breaking, and I was lucky it hit while I was in a safe place. Hit me like a ton of bricks, and I ended up curled in a ball under the bed I was 'borrowing.' All the memories that they erased or altered were restored en masse. It took a long time to process everything. When I was aware again, I found out I'd lost three days."

"I see," JARVIS' tone stayed solemn, but there was a hint of relief underneath it. "Based on the rapidity of Sir's progress, compared to yours, Sergeant, odds are high that he will break through the haze more quickly, as well."

"Probably," Bucky agreed. "For now, it's probably best to leave him in peace."

"Come on," Steve broke in. "Let's get something to eat and let the others know what's happened."

Bucky looked back at Tony, and made an undecided noise in the back of his throat. Following his friend's eyes Steve finally spotted Tony, who had hidden in a corner of the bed, curled up in a tight ball as far out of sight of the glass walls as possible.

It took a few long seconds for Bucky to speak. "JARVIS," he said, "let me know if anything changes or he seems like he's getting overwhelmed." Turning away from the glass walls separating them from Tony, he reluctantly nodded, accepting Steve's suggestion. "We'll get something to eat and come back."

"Alright."

Bucky seemed to want to keep watch, probably out of sympathy; he knew exactly how vulnerable Tony was right now, and how Tony would feel when he woke. Steve could understand the urge, for all that he didn't share in the experience.

He planned to force Bucky into bed and take over at the end of the day.

Not even the Winter Soldier could go without rest, after all.


	15. [Tony]

It had started with a twinge at the nape of his neck.

The Mechanic had ignored it. He didn't get sick, after all. Never had in all the time he'd spent working for the glory of HYDRA, even in the cold and damp of the Siberian base.

When the twinge had suddenly become a spike of true pain that traveled up his neck and over his scalp to settle around his eye sockets, he'd realised his mistake.

Some instinct told him he needed to find a secure place, and he obeyed without stopping to question what was happening. Whiteness was starting to make the edges of his peripheral vision fade out of his awareness.

Curling into the most defensible place in his cell, the Mechanic ignored JARVIS' concerned queries. They blurred into meaningless noise, and putting in the effort to decipher what the AI wanted wasn't his priority.

An indeterminate length of time later, a pair of familiar voices seemed to shudder through him, though they couldn't seem to pierce the white fog that enveloped his senses and made him feel so achingly vulnerable.

Oddly, though, those voices seemed to pull something out of the haze.

A hand on his shoulder, the strong smell of expensive cigars, and a voice in his ear. _Now, I'm gonna need you to lay low--_ A feeling of betrayal that shook him right down to the foundations of his existence.

A sweet smile that hid a backbone stronger than carbon steel and the smell of sun-ripened blueberries. _Tony!_ The sensation of flying in the suit -- wait, that couldn't be right; he hadn't invented the suit until just recently -- followed by a series of explosions and a kiss that had felt like flying.

After that, the images came at him thick and fast, like water rushing over a broken dam, overlapping each other and making the familiar voices that were still trying to get his attention vanish in the din only he could hear.

When the storm finally subsided and he could tell what was physical and what was imagined, the Mech-- Tony. Fuck, _he_ was Tony.

The lingering tension and headache seemed to redouble at that realisation. Biting back a pained groan, the-- Tony, he was _Tony, damn it_ \-- Tony gingerly turned his head so he could scan the area without leaving his concealed position. Steve, Bucky, and Nat had retrieved him and he'd fought them. Probably injured them. Then, when they'd gotten him back here, they'd put him in the Hulk's containment room, and, Tony winced, he couldn't fault them for that.

It didn't take long for him to spot the figure standing guard in the room, his back to Tony, so he could keep an eye on all the sightlines and entrances the room had. Not that there were many. Tony had designed it that way.

The way Bucky was positioned, it was clear that he'd been keeping watch, and Tony wasn't sure whether he was more embarrassed or grateful.

In the end he settled on neither, and slowly picked himself up off the floor of the containment room.

A few last twinges went through him, and Tony fought back the desire to hide some more. He felt weirdly vulnerable, despite -- or maybe because of -- having his memories back. Somehow, he'd been a lot more confident and assured without them, and wasn't that a bit paradoxical.

"Hey," he said eventually, when Bucky didn't turn to face him. "You sleeping on the job, Soldier?"

Bucky jumped about a foot, proving he had been more focused on keeping watch than on Tony. Tony laughed at him, getting a scowl in reply.

"You back with us?" Bucky asked, watching him closely.

Tony shrugged. "Well, I'm not the man I was... what, four months ago?"

The statement startled a chuckle out of Bucky. "Alright, that's more like it. Stay put," he ordered. "JARVIS, his vitals scan alright?"

"J would have alerted you long ago if they didn't," Tony scoffed. "I need Pepper."

"Good to have you back, Sir," his AI told him, a world of relief in the phrase that neither of them would ever outwardly acknowledge. "I will let Ms. Potts know you would like to see her."

"Meantime," Tony added, "order me a burger or three, would you, J? I'm starving."

Bucky took that as his cue to leave the room. "I'll be back later. JARVIS, make sure he drinks enough water."

Tony watched him go, not at all sure what that meant. His last clear memory of Bucky was of a recovering shadow of a man who was unsure where he stood in the world, who had just come in from the metaphorical cold looking for sanctuary from everyone trying to hunt him down. Tony remembered adjusting that prosthetic arm of Bucky's in the workshop and tentatively liking the tendency to be a sarcastic asshole that Bucky was beginning to show. The person in front of him was far more grounded and confident in who and what he was. 

It was surprisingly attractive.

Tony put a stop to that thought. He was broken up with Steve, and not sure he wanted to even attempt to fix that after the disaster it had turned out to be. If nothing else, Steve probably wouldn't be able to stand being around him, now. After the way he'd cut Steve to the bone before he left, Tony knew that whatever they'd been trying to build between them was probably not salvageable, and he couldn't blame Steve for not showing his face now that he was himself again.

Leaving like that had been all Tony. Looking back on it now, with the perspective regaining his memories had given him, Tony wanted to hide in his workshop and get falling-down drunk. This was why his relationships never lasted.

And here he was contemplating the idea of dating Steve's best friend, as though that weren't pretty much the worst possible plan in history. Even thinking about it was enough to have the futurist in him predicting that everything to do with the team would fall apart if he even thought about following through on that.

No, he needed to at least try to get Steve back to a point where a working relationship was possible, for the sake of keeping the Avengers intact. He needed to not think about Bucky.

And in any case, he would have to deal with a few other issues pronto. Such as his new face.

Thankfully for his mental state, Pepper walked cautiously into the room, saving him from the tangled mess that thinking about his relationship status always seemed to turn his thoughts into.

"Pepper!" Tony grinned at her.

The tension in her shoulders vanished like it had never been. "Jesus, Tony," she berated him as she clipped over in her preferred stilettoes, "I don't even want to know how the hell you get yourself into these messes."

Tony huffed at her. "Comes with being famous and a superhero."

"What did you want to talk about?" Pepper demanded, wrenching him back on track with her usual casual efficiency.

He did still love her, and that efficiency was still one of his favourite things about her. Fuck, now was not the time to think about that, though. "I need to get to my workshop. I can do some things remotely through JARVIS, but not everything."

Pepper watched him thoughtfully for a moment. "Alright. Granted. But that's not what you needed me for. You'll have to get Steve and Bucky to agree to let you out of here."

Tony scowled. He knew that damned well, and had been hoping she would use her admin privileges to get him out so he didn't have to confront them. "Fine, fine. We need to hold a press conference. You know that as well as I do. It's been a long time since I've been anywhere in the media and I'm sure they're pulling the same bullshit they did after Afghanistan."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stay on script this time?"

"We don't have weapons production to stop," he joked.

"I'm serious, Tony."

"There would be more questions about whether it's really me if I did." He pointed out. "I've never stayed on script in my life, and you know it."

Pepper's expression skipped over irritated to resigned. "Unfortunately, you have a point."

"Then I need you to help me set up a second persona."

"Why?" Pepper gave him a suspicious look. "So you can disappear whenever you like?"

Tony rolled his eyes at her. "Pepper, Pep, _look at me_. Look at my face and tell me I'm the same Tony you knew before I got taken. Someday it'll leak that I'm mysteriously looking a lot younger somehow, you know that, and we need to have a contingency plan in place."

Reluctantly, she nodded. "I'll see what I can do, but it might take some time."

"I don't deserve you." 

"Tony," Pepper looked sad, now, almost regretful, "you deserve everything." Turning to face the door she tossed over her shoulder. "Talk to him. He's been a wreck."

It was clear who she meant.

Tony made a face. "J, ask them to let me the hell out of here, would you?"

It took a few minutes for Bucky and Steve to show up. When they did, both of them looked a bit wary, as though they weren't sure letting him out was a good idea.

Bucky caught his eyes as they approached. "JARVIS says you want out," he said bluntly, "what're you planning?"

Tony snorted. "Well, I'm going to have to do press now that I'm back, and that means looking like I did before I left." He gestured to himself. "Right now, I don't."

"How do you intend to do that?" Bucky asked, cutting Steve off before he could say a word.

Tony eyed them both for a beat before he answered. "Give me two days and I'll show you. But I need access to my workshop, and I can't do that from here."


	16. [Steve]

Steve didn't look up from the book he was reading when Bucky stepped into his apartments and leaned against the doorframe. Well, he acknowledged to himself, after the news that Tony had apparently broken through HYDRA's programming, he hadn't been able to focus on the words. He'd tried four times to read this page and failed each time.

The silence held for a minute before Steve gave in. "You need something, Buck?"

"Wonderin' why you haven't gone to see him yet," Bucky informed him, his tone deceptively calm and unconcerned. "It's been nearly 18 hours."

Steve shrugged. "He's got enough to deal with right now."

"That's bullshit."

Bucky's bluntness got through where the clear hint hadn't. Steve gave his friend a long level look, collecting his wits before he spoke, this time. "That's your opinion. Buck, Sam asked me the same thing just after Tony made us let him out of there. I'll tell you what I told him: Tony's got to sort through his memories, now, and decide what's real and what's not. I remember what you told us about those days. Maybe more importantly, he's got to decide what to tell the media, which is something you didn't have to do." Steve could see the flicker of emotion in Bucky's eyes at that, and continued, looking back down at his book blankly. "He doesn't need the additional worry of dealing with whatever we are... or were."

Bucky's hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. He hadn't heard any footsteps to warn him. "Steve," he said firmly, "true as that might be, if you stay away he'll only start making assumptions, and I can almost guarantee you they won't be the right ones. Now, before you start telling me I don't know him well and I'm wrong about him, I want you to think back to the day he ran off to California. He assumed a lot of things in the days leading up to that, and you know -- probably better than I do -- how accurate they were."

Bucky's hand disappeared and he turned to walk back out the door, his posture screaming annoyance and frustration. "Anyway," he added, "think about that a bit, admit I'm right, and go talk to the asshole."

Steve stared after Bucky, not quite sure what to think, for a few long seconds before JARVIS put in, "the Sergeant has a point."

Steve glanced up at the speaker mounted discreetly in a corner of the room out of reflex. "But--"

"Your own points are well made, Captain," JARVIS cut him off, an almost annoyed undertone to the words, "but you must know this; Sir is fundamentally good at projecting confidence where he has none and concealing his hurts under anger or a smile."

Steve bit back an irritated growl. "And how the hell do you know he's not going to just do the same thing again, and get angry and bolt? I'd rather avoid a repeat of that."

"The situation has changed, Captain, and you know that," JARVIS admonished him.

There was a tense pause before the AI added, "further, Sir has not eaten since before he fell into his unresponsive state."

It was clearly a statement calculated to get Steve to bring Tony food, and they both knew it.

Steve didn't stop his irritated grumbling this time. "You're a manipulative asshole, JARVIS," he told the corner of his living room where the speaker was located.

"I learned from the best," JARVIS retorted.

Giving in to the inevitable -- he would only get more and more irritated with the promptings of his conscience to bring Tony something -- Steve stood and tossed his book aside, a bit more carelessly than usual. "If you tell me it's for my own good, I'll find a way to punch you."

The AI's smirk was audible. "If you succeed, I might even permit it."

Heading for his own kitchen, knowing that the communal one usually was lacking one thing or another, thanks to his and Bucky's appetites and caloric needs, Steve threw together a pair of sandwiches. Those got plated up and covered, and long before he was mentally prepared for it, he was riding the elevator down to Tony's workshop.

What he found was... well, simultaneously exactly what he expected and the farthest thing from it.

As he approached the glass door that allowed access to Tony's workshop and Tony himself came into view, Steve was thrown completely off his mental footing to see the Tony he remembered from before this whole mess. It was a goddamn physical impossibility, but Tony was far too good at making those into reality for Steve's comfort.

Shaking his head to clear it, Steve typed in his access code and stepped into the workshop, letting the door fall closed behind him. For once, the music wasn't blasting as Tony worked, so Steve heard the quiet whine of the hydraulics keeping the door from slamming.

"So, who did you lose to?" Tony asked without looking up from whatever he was doing.

Still fighting the cognitive dissonance of seeing Tony as he'd looked four months and change ago, Steve faltered, caught flat-footed. "Huh?" 

"Who did you lose to? Barnes? JARVIS? I know Romanov's left the building for who knows what secret mission." Tony's voice left no doubt that he suspected an ulterior motive. It was just short of a verbal sneer.

"No idea what you're talking about," Steve managed to say, hoping he sounded confident enough to be convincing, "but JARVIS was hinting you needed to eat. So, here." He set the covered plate on a free corner of Tony's workbench, and decided to beat a strategic retreat. "Come find me when you're done with whatever it is you're doing. SI comes first, but we have a few things to talk about, too."

Before Tony could reply, he was back out of the door and it was closing behind him.

Maybe, Steve hoped, this approach would get Tony thinking.

Maybe.

Then again -- he tried not to let the mix of resignation and annoyance get the better of him -- Tony was more likely to find a way to twist and distort the meaning of what he'd said, short and sweet as it had been.

At least, with this kind of surgical strike, he'd allowed himself less time to screw it all up even worse.

"JARVIS," he eventually asked, "let me know when he's finished with whatever he's building?"

"Which of the seven currently active projects are you referring to?" The AI sounded carefully neutral. "I feel I must caution you to be careful when using this type of guerilla warfare against Sir. It has been known to backfire rather spectacularly."

"The one he's currently got his hands on. And I don't know, my attempts to be direct failed miserably, so I might as well try something different."


	17. [Tony]

He stared after Steve as the man left. That had been decidedly weird.

"JARVIS," Tony demanded, "was that your doing?"

"Not entirely, Sir," his AI replied calmly. "Sergeant Barnes helped."

Tony thought that over for a moment, not sure whether he believed the assertion or not. Setting the issue aside, he went back to his testing. "You know what, nevermind. Is the holographic field still holding?"

"It is, in all requisite wavelengths."

The first thing he'd done on escaping the Hulk's room was build a portable holographic projector, because he could pass off the rest of the physical changes on his captivity, but his face couldn't change too drastically overnight. A bit of muscle mass and a need for a new wardrobe because his jeans were all too wide in the waist, though, that was not nearly as big of a problem. If he wanted a new suit for the press he would have to do, he'd need to have it fitted.

That meant looking like he had before HYDRA had snatched him, and the disguise had to be stable and impenetrable to all of the standard cameras available on the market. JARVIS had scoured the internet for any tech specs he was missing, but most of the data was already on hand for his research on the retro-reflection panels he'd fitted the first SHIELD Helicarrier with. The more complex part was making sure the colors were right, and the hologram lifelike. It needed to move like him, and not fall into the uncanny valley.

He'd dealt with that little design hurdle by taking advantage of JARVIS' many hours of footage of him, and, judging by Steve's reaction when he'd come in, the test had been a success.

The other crucial thing about it was that it needed to be hidden in a device he would always have on his person in public. He'd considered making a new watch with the generator in it, but the dimensions of his watches and the prototype generator simply hadn't lined up, and he hadn't been able to get it small enough. In the end, he'd settled on putting it in a very special high tech belt that he could wear under his designer suits.

Abruptly tired of thinking, he pushed away from the workbench. "Any news from Pepper about that new identity?"

"No, sir, and I would venture to predict that it will take another few days to a week for her to complete that task, even with my assistance."

Tony ran his hands through his hair, distantly amused by the tingle in his fingertips when his hands passed through the hologram, which was as close to 'skin tight' as he could make it. It was projected about a millimeter above his skin.

After a beat, he picked up the plate Steve had brought and poked idly at the sandwiches through the covering of cling-wrap. "J, when is the press conference scheduled?"

"In approximately twenty-four hours. Ms. Potts has forwarded me a draft copy of the statement she and Mrs. Arbogast have been working on, and promised a final copy sometime this evening."

"Fine, great. I'll look at it later. Call my tailor and ask him to come take in a couple of my suits. Rush job." Tony peeled back the cling wrap and picked up a sandwich, sniffing at it. Tomatoes, lettuce, and turkey. Well, sure, why not. Biting into it, he chewed and swallowed, surprised by just how hungry he felt now that he had the smell of food in his nose and the taste on his tongue.

He'd never really paid attention to it while he'd been in Siberia, but he was pretty sure his caloric requirements had jumped up to join Bucky's. Maybe not Steve's. But he'd never gotten quite this hungry on his design benders before. "Oh, and make a note, J," he put in, "we need to start keeping some protein bars or something down here."

"Done, sir. War Machine is inbound."

Tony choked on his next bite of sandwich. "Shit. Already?"

"It has been nearly two weeks since your rescue, sir. No doubt Colonel Rhodes has been worried."

"Damn it."

Setting the sandwich aside in favor of dealing with the more imminent threat to his equanimity, Tony shut down the workshop and left. He'd meet Rhodey on the landing platform. Being ambushed or surprised by Rhodey had never been his favourite thing, and now there could potentially be far worse consequences. He didn't need to deal with the fallout of hurting Rhodey, however accidentally.

Changing his mind, he grabbed for the sandwich again and took it with him into the elevator, finishing it off in a few bites. "You know what to do, J. Hit it."

"Of course, sir. War Machine had just cleared New York city limits. ETA three minutes."

If he got through this without getting into a shouting match with his best friend, it would be a minor miracle.

The cool afternoon air that hit his face when he stepped out onto the landing pad was refreshing. In another couple of months, winter would set in properly, but for now the air was just about warm enough for him to tolerate the wind chill. At this height, the air was never calm.

A familiar silhouette caught his attention, and Tony couldn't help the silent relieved breath that left him. He knew Rhodey always worried about him when he went off on his tours or played liaison to entities other than Stark Industries, but it went both ways. Sure, Rhodey was one of the most competent hand to hand fighters and one of the best fighter pilots Tony knew, but there was always the chance that someone could get to him. Seeing Rhodey was alright always had made something deep inside Tony uncurl a bit, and always would.

The suit came in for a more or less graceful landing on the helipad. Rhodey took his usual two half-steps forward, overbalanced by that damned gatling gun he insisted on keeping glued to his shoulder, then steadied. A beat later the armour's seals cracked open with a quiet hiss and Rhodey was stepping out of it.

He stalked over to Tony, looking like he wanted to throw a punch, and ended up pulling Tony into his arms instead.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," Tony managed to choke out, reminded far too much of the way Rhodey had held him after Afghanistan.

"Yeah," Rhodey managed to reply, sounding choked himself, "well, if you didn't keep falling off the radar..."

A laugh that felt more like a sob escaped him, and Tony let himself lean hard on Rhodey for a moment. "Not my idea."

A short silence fell between them, broken after an awkward few seconds by Tony's stomach growling.

Rhodey laughed at him outright. "Okay, come on. We need to get some food in you, and I could eat. It wasn't exactly a short flight in from Texas."


	18. [Tony]

Letting Rhodey pull (most of) the whole story out of him was exhausting, even with the moderately ridiculous amount of pizza and beer they consumed in the process.

Tony knew better than to think Rhodey wouldn't notice the gaps in the story, either. But he didn't want Rhodey to run for the hills. Even Pepper had been making herself scarce lately, not harassing him out of his workshop like she always had.

Rhodey was watching him carefully, in the silence that had fallen after he had finally stopped prying information out of him. It was making Tony want to keep talking, to fill the silence with anything he could think of. To deflect and distract.

It didn't matter how much he trusted Rhodey -- even after all the shit that had happened between them -- letting anyone in that close to him was enough to make him want to grab the armour and fly.

Tony forced himself not to fidget.

"So what aren't you telling me?" Rhodey asked him, when the silence drew out long enough that he decided Tony wasn't going to be the first to break. "You dying again and keeping it a secret? 'Cause I am never letting you forget that bullshit, and if you're doing it again, I might kill you myself."

Tony shook his head mutely, pressing his lips together and the tips of his fingers against them for a moment before he stood and paced. "Not dying. Just... processing a lot of shit," he admitted.

"Then what has you so upset? I see you doing the same shit you did after Monaco. Don't try to tell me it's nothing I should worry about."

Rhodey wasn't going to let this go. Tony knew that. He let himself fall back onto the sofa with a groan, sprawling out on his back with one leg and arm dangling off the edge of the cushions, and the other arm over his face. "It was HYDRA," he mumbled into his skin, leaving out the issue of his breakup with Steve and the fact that it had been what distracted him enough to get himself caught.

"You couldn't have led with that? Jesus, Tony."

"They took me and tried to turn me into a second Winter Soldier."

Without warning, he was hauled up off the sofa and into Rhodey's arms. Tony jerked and flailed, a mix of newly conditioned reflexes and age old self-defense classes making him lash out. Rhodey dodged easily, apparently having expected that kind of reaction, and didn't let Tony squirm free.

Rather than pull away, though, Tony turned and clung to his friend, his hands fisting tightly in Rhodey's ridiculous green polo shirt -- he remembered that one from the Mandarin Incident; it had the same frayed edges at the collar and tiny hole at the hem -- as he breathed deeply trying to control the wild emotions suddenly boiling up to the surface.

"You okay, Tones?"

The question got a harsh sound out of him that might have resembled a laugh under better circumstances. "Physically? Sure. Better than before."

"You've lost a lot of weight." Rhodey replied, sounding dubious.

"Yeah, that's a souvenir from the assholes that took me," Tony had to swallow around the catch in his throat to get the next few words out. "And so's this."

Turning off the hologram, and pulling away, he waited.

Rhodey said nothing for a long moment. "You know," he said, "I thought I'd seen some crazy shit when we took on the Mandarin. This is somethin' else. How the fuck did--"

"Turns out that Barnes' serum makes you young and keeps you that way. Can't let your pet supersoldier age, right? 'M pretty sure Rogers'll stay about 23 for a long time, himself."

"And now you will too." Rhodey gave him a long level look. "You okay with that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Knowing you?" Rhodey quipped and pulled him back into the hug. "If you really hated the idea, you'd find a way to fix it somehow. But I don't think you do, for whatever reason. Now. Seriously."

Tony felt a shudder run down his spine. "I hate how it happened," he admitted, "but after the last few years... it's kind of a relief not to hurt."

"That sounds about right. Have you decided how to handle the press?"

"Well, I've got my hologram," Tony told him, shrugging.

"There's no way your little illusion'll last. You know that." Rhodey told him, releasing him and pushing them both into an approximation of a sitting position. "The tabloids'll catch you off guard and then you'll be your own illegitimate son or alien doppelganger or whatever bullshit."

Tony stared at his friend. "That's brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Oh no," Rhodey put his hands out and tried to physically hold him down in an attempt to make Tony stop thinking. "Whatever it is you're thinking, don't do it."

"Oh come on, Rhodey, I'll be fun." Tony laughed at him, letting the scenario play out in his mind and liking it more with every passing moment. "We'll drag the super soldiers along or something. God knows Barnes could use a night out on the town."

Rhodey groaned. "This is the _worst_ idea. What are you trying to do?"

Using his newly granted strength, he stood up and pulled Rhodey with him, getting a very undignified squawk out of his friend in the process.

"Tony!" Rhodey tried again. "If you make a scene and it makes the news, Pepper will kill you."

"Not sure she could, the way I seem to heal faster now," Tony replied, grinning, and ducked away from Rhodey's mostly-serious attempt to catch him around the waist. "I can always go stag," he teased, knowing that was exactly the right thing to say to get Rhodey to acquiesce.

"I don't think so. You're staying right the fuck here!"

Laughing outright, now, suddenly light hearted and enjoying himself, Tony bolted. "Gotta catch me first!"

Rhodey was going to sic Pepper on him, Tony just knew it, but here and now he didn't care.

He had a way to establish his persona with minimal backlash, and Rhodey would be there to watch his back. And, if all went according to plan, so would Pepper.


	19. [Bucky]

When the murmur of voices in Tony's living room stopped, he'd had to force himself not to stand up and pace. It was bad enough that he hadn't been able to resist the urge to slip into Tony's kitchen to keep an ear out. He didn't need to get caught doing it. As it was, JARVIS knew. Why the AI had chosen to keep quiet and let him… Bucky wasn't sure.

It was just... he knew this Rhodes was one of the few people Tony trusted. But he didn't know Rhodes, and Tony was still so _raw_ after what HYDRA had done to him. Bucky shuddered at the memories that thought pulled up.

He was dragged back out of those thoughts by Rhodes' raised voice. "I don't think so. You're staying right the fuck here!"

"Gotta catch me first!" Tony called back, and before Bucky could quite work out what the hell was happening, Tony was sprinting out of the living room and shouldering the stairwell door open hard enough that it bounced off the concrete wall with a crash.

"JARVIS!" Rhodes tore out of the room after him, "Slow that idiot down, would you?"

The words hung in the air as Rhodes skidded to a stop inside the waiting elevator car, and then the doors closed and he was gone.

Bucky considered what had just happened.

"Should I be worried, JARVIS?"

The AI seemed to hesitate for a moment. "While 'worry' is not quite the word I would choose," he answered, "I believe you are likely correct in your guess that it would be wise to be present for whatever crazy scheme Sir is planning."

"Damn it."

Taking two long steps, Bucky vaulted neatly over the kitchen island and got to the stairwell just in time to hear another door clang shut far below. He stopped short. "Where's he going, JARVIS?"

"Sir is heading for his private garage."

Not only well-secured -- Bucky had yet to get in there without Tony's assistance and presence, though he'd only tried once -- but also implying that Tony wanted to leave the Tower.

"Col. Rhodes can only hold Sir back for so long," the AI prompted, and the elevator pinged off to Bucky's left.

Cursing up a blue streak, Bucky went, glad of the AI's assistance. "Does Steve know?"

There was another silence as the elevator rapidly descended and the AI considered how to reply. "I have not informed the Captain. Sir is still... upset... about what happened between them just prior to his departure."

Bucky hesitated for a long moment. Should he do it?

He couldn't stay cooped up in the Tower forever, like a hermit, no matter how much safer it was for him. He'd have to face up to the ghosts in his past sometime, and even if he did stay indoors, his presence would be noted eventually.

"Let Steve know the three of us are going out, then. He might have to come bail us out of trouble, at this rate." Bucky suggested.

"Very well. Do try to get Sir back here in one piece."

"I'm more worried about Rhodes." 

"I will handle that." JARVIS told him as the elevator gradually slowed to a stop.

"Hey!" Tony called to him, grinning broadly. "Leaving aside just how you knew we were going… J tells me you want to go out on the town with us."

Bucky caught Rhodes' eyes. "First things first. I don't think we've been introduced...?"

Rhodes sized him up, looking like he wasn't sure what to think of his presence, then offered a hand for Bucky to shake. "Call me Rhodey."

"Bucky." He pointed to Tony with his chin as he took Rhodey's hand and shook it. "Got the impression you were here to keep him out of trouble."

Tony gasped in feigned outrage but Rhodey talked right over him without hesitation, holding Bucky's eyes. "I can't work miracles," he replied, making Tony laugh.

"Honestly, Platypus," Tony put in, "it's like you don't even know me."

Bucky huffed. "I've known you for all of a few weeks, but I'm inclined to believe Rhodes on this one."

"Fine, whatever, I'm a walking disaster. Let's go out. Paint the town red."

Rhodey gave Tony the stink eye. "I'm really not sure now is a good time for you to be doing anything that involves the public."

"Since when have I ever paid attention to that." Tony stepped up to one of his flashy cars and tossed the keys up into the air, deftly catching them again and then pulling a pair of sunglasses out of seemingly nowhere. "Come on, boys. I'm leaving; it's decision time. You in or out?"

"I'm going to regret this," Rhodey muttered.

Bucky bit back a bemused snort, then paused to consider the situation briefly. His left arm wasn't exactly going to blend in, if he went through with this, dressed as he was. Tony had kept the flashy chromed plating when he'd upgraded the thing. He had to concede that Tony drew all eyes to him magnetically, though, and HYDRA had to know where he was already. The worst that could happen, really, was that he'd wind up in the media, and that was going to happen eventually, whether they wanted it to or not. Tony was a very public figure, and everyone wanted his attention. The phenomenon was worse, now that he was back and about to announce his return to the Press, but that meant the focus would be on Tony rather than on him.

He grabbed for a lightweight leather jacket that Tony had left lying over the back of one of his chairs. It would leave his hand exposed, but there wasn't much he could do about that at the moment. "I'm borrowing this."

Tony gave him a once over from head to toe as he shrugged into the thing, and grabbed for a pair of gloves lying on the convertible's driver's seat. Tossing the gloves to Bucky he smirked wickedly. "I like the look, Barnes. Keep it."

"I just might. It's a nice jacket," he replied, trying not to let the way the jacket smelled like Tony distract him. Climbing into the car and gingerly settling himself in the tiny excuse for a back seat, Bucky caught Rhodey's eyes and said, "Come on, Rhodey. If what I suspect is true, he can't get drunk, anyway."

Tony grinned triumphantly as Rhodey followed with a groan, grumbling, "That only makes it worse. He'll get me drunk, instead."

As the car started with a low growl, Bucky wondered what Steve was going to have to say about all this, later. It was bound to be an entertaining rant. And -- he interrupted the thought to brace his arm against the side of the car as Tony put the car in gear and deftly threaded it up through the garage access ramp, driving far faster than any sane person should and obviously treating it like he would his armour -- and, Bucky finished, he had no doubt Ms. Potts would have something to say on the matter, too. "So where are we going?" He asked Tony.

"If we were in Malibu, I'd just say 'Downtown'; LA has a lot of clubs but I only set foot in a few." Tony told him, his grin audible. "Here in New York? We have our pick, and right now, I want a strong drink and a dance floor."

Rhodey groaned. "Great. I'm out here with two guys that look underage, and one of them is Tony Stark."

"Don't worry about that, Applejack. I've got it covered." Tony flipped his gadget back on, and Bucky watched fascinated, as the illusion seemed to unfurl around him. "Besides. No one ever cards me."


	20. [Steve]

When JARVIS informed him that Tony was going out for drinks and dancing with Rhodes and Bucky, Steve wasn't sure he believed it at first.

He had hurried down to Tony's garage the moment it sank in that the AI was serious, but he'd been too late. There was an empty parking spot and the large area was silent. With a sigh, he'd retreated back to the apartments he'd been sharing with Bucky, wondering what the hell this meant, and let himself fall back onto his bed. He stared at his ceiling trying to shut his brain off long enough to fall asleep.

In the end, Steve didn't get much shuteye that night, tossing and turning. His thoughts kept intruding every time he closed his eyes, wandering in tight circles around the idea that Bucky might be recognised and pursued or attacked, the idea that _Tony_ might be, and the sure knowledge that Bucky had gone with Tony to prevent just that because Tony was still uncomfortable around Steve.

That much was pretty clear just from the way Tony had deftly avoided being in the same room as Steve since he'd gotten out of the Hulk's room. Rhodes' presence was another awkward stumbling block. Tony's oldest friend was in town and fussing over him -- and had more right to do so than Steve did, which stung.

At least one sleepless night wouldn't hurt him.

Forcing himself out of bed at about the time he and Bucky usually went down to the gym in the mornings, he stumbled blearily into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Are the others back yet?"

"No, but I expect that they will return shortly." JARVIS told him, and Steve thought he heard a slightly annoyed sniff underlying the words. "Predictably, the tabloid photographers have already been hard at work."

That figured. Steve winced. "What are they saying? Did they figure out who Bucky is?"

"I believe not." JARVIS opened a blue-tinted holographic screen at Steve's right hand, one of said tabloids opened and waiting on it[1]. "But it appears he might have found a way of establishing himself a persona that does not require him to wear his holographic interference field at all times."

Steve stared at the photograph of Tony -- looking young and carefree and far too attractive for his own good as he handed Rhodes a neon blue drink -- and then the headline for a long moment, stunned. "Who is Tony Stark's baby mama? Our theories on page 3," he read, out loud, then screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Pepper is going to kill him in his sleep."

"That is entirely possible," JARVIS told him, "if Col. Rhodes does not beat her to it."

Trying to decide whether he was more alarmed, amused, or tired, Steve shook his head. "Where are they, right now?"

"Approximately a block from the Tower. If you wish to catch them, the best location might be the common floor kitchen."

"Alright." Steve squared his shoulders. "Thanks, JARVIS."

Sure enough, five slightly tense minutes after he got to the common floor kitchen the elevator pinged and Bucky stepped out, wearing what Steve thought might be Tony's jacket, with Rhodes draped over his good shoulder and an arm around Rhodes' waist to steady him. Tony followed them, looking attractively disheveled and mumbling what sounded like equations under his breath.

Tony tensed when he saw Steve, then visibly shoved the reaction aside as best he could. "Hey Cap," he said, swaggering over to the 'fridge, "you're here early."

Steve tried for nonchalance, and suspected his missed by a mile. "I wanted breakfast. You know you made the tabloids?"

Rhodes groaned, clearly still tipsy, if not outright drunk. "Damn it, Tony."

"What?" Tony defended himself lazily. "That always happens."

Bucky looked up sharply, hearing that. "They didn't get any pictures of me, did they?"

"None in which you are readily identifiable," JARVIS put in, saving Steve from having to answer, "though one or two articles speculate on who you might be, Sergeant. The focus was more on Sir, and theories about who he had a son with."

Tony grinned broadly. "Perfect."

Bucky gave him a skeptical look. "How exactly is that perfect?"

Rhodes made another pained sound and freed himself from Bucky's grip. "I can't deal with this right now," he grumbled, then turned to point at Steve. "You and me, we're having some words later," he threatened, then stumbled across the open foyer to let himself fall face first onto the sofa. 

Tony watched his friend go, a fond look on his face. "Lightweight. Drink some water," he called after Rhodes.

Rhodes flipped him off, making Bucky laugh, and Steve found himself feeling weirdly jealous. The three of them had clearly had a good time, and were more comfortable with one another than Steve would have expected.

Bucky must have made a good impression on Rhodes.

The thought made Steve abruptly melancholy again. He, on the other hand, was clearly in bad standing with Tony's best friend. That wasn't unexpected, really, considering the very messy break up he and Tony had had. Rhodes' opinion of him hadn't improved much throughout the months they'd searched for Tony, either. That much had been obvious in the way the man reacted to him, for all that they'd spoken maybe three times. Rhodes had preferred to deal with Pepper, claiming it was better for his blood pressure that way.

Tony broke him back out of his thoughts, then.

"That is perfect," he said, "in that it gives me an easy way of explaining how I suddenly look like I'm 25. Sure, it'll take some juggling to be my own son, but it should be manageable. J, make a note: get Pepper up here once she's awake."

"So noted. You seem to have gained some tact somewhere. Might I ask from whom?"

"Very funny," Tony shot back, scowling.

Bucky was watching Tony thoughtfully, now. "But what if you have to be in the same place in both your personas?"

"I'll deal with that if and when it comes up," Tony said, waving the objection away. "First, I want some breakfast."

 

\------ ------

[1] I'm linking this great [fan manip](http://archiveofourown.org/works/816708/chapters/1809422), because it happens to parallel the story, even though none of this was written for/about it. Seems relevant. Also: nottonyharrison's work is all fantastic. Click here to return to text.


	21. [Bucky]

Watching Tony ignore Steve was starting to make something deep inside Bucky coil up into a hard knot of discomfort. "Come on, Steve, let's make some food," he said, and ignored Tony's slightly put out expression. "Tony, make up some coffee, would'ya? Steve, eggs."

Steve moved like he was in a daze, his expression distant in that way he had when he was trying not to show hurt. "How'd'you want 'em?"

"Scrambled," Bucky told him, putting a mixing bowl on the counter. "Just put in the whole carton. Between us we'll need that many."

They worked in silence for a while after that. Once he got moving, Steve automatically pulled out a pan and started frying the eggs. Bucky didn't bother breaking Steve's concentration; he made up some toast and bacon instead, cooking the meat, and then lightly frying the slices of bread in the fat left in the pan. He and Steve would easily burn off those calories, and Tony probably wouldn't object, either.

Once the food was plated up, he slid one heaping serving over to Tony, along with some flatware, and caught the idiot's eyes.

Before Bucky could find the right words to say, the elevator pinged again with perfect timing, and Sam stepped out of it. Tony eyed the man suspiciously for a moment. "Wilson. What're you doing here?"

"What am I doing?" Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm stealing myself some breakfast, since y'all cooked any, for once."

Sam's presence, so lightly felt in the Tower, recently, was soothing, right now. Bucky huffed at him. "Good thing we made extra, then. Where have you been hiding anyway?"

"Just because I don't have to eat like you, Barnes, doesn't mean you can make fun of me for it," Sam riposted, unruffled. "I've been around. Just didn't want to shove my nose in where it wasn't wanted."

Steve shook his head, and broke his silence, though his voice was quiet. "You know we wouldn't do that to you."

"Not intentionally, maybe. But for now, let's eat." Sam grabbed himself a plate and some flatware, then filled his plate without hesitation. He eyed the spread, then set out four glasses and poured them all some orange juice to go with it.

Tony didn't say a word. His shoulders were slightly hunched and he looked like he was waiting for the blow to fall, but didn't want to admit any weakness or turn away from the hit.

With a shrug, Bucky tucked into his own heaping serving. There wasn't anything he could say that would help that, right now.

Sam broke the silence again, after they'd finished their meal. "You'd better talk things out with Steve," he said, catching Tony's eyes and holding them, keeping his voice low and his tone serious. It was obvious he wanted Tony to know he meant the words. "And, Steve, you'd better damned well _listen_. I know you two are not happy with each other right now, but the longer you wait, the worse it'll get."

Pushing back his chair and standing, Sam gave Bucky a nod. "Thanks for breakfast. I'll catch you later."

Apparently satisfied that he'd made his point, Sam left again.

Bucky couldn't blame him. This promised to be a stormy discussion, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be around to witness it, either.

After a minute that seemed to stretch, Tony sighed sharply and scrubbed at his face with his hands. "Ugh, fine. Let's get this over with."

Steve looked like that single sentence cut him to the bone. "Look," Steve replied, and Bucky wanted to pull Steve into his arms at the pain he could hear, "I know you want nothing to do with me anymore, but could you at least, I don't know, not ignore me?"

"You-- I--" Tony actually stumbled over his words, looking floored. "What?"

"What you said before running off to Malibu was pretty clear," Steve bit out. "But now you're just rubbing it in, and it stings."

"Uh," Tony looked like that thought had never occurred to him.

Bucky wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. Two men that were as good at public speaking and conveying their ideas to people as Steve and Tony both clearly were should not be having this much trouble talking to each other. Honestly.

After a beat, Tony took a breath and visibly did his best to marshal his thoughts. "Okay, first off, yeah, I was pretty pissed the first few days," he said. "Now forget about that."

Steve looked like he wanted to protest some more, but subsided when Tony held his eyes.

"After the HYDRA thing, after being grabbed on my way out to my car, after being wiped, after being used and taken advantage of like that? All I wanted was a clean slate. And I thought I might get it." Tony glanced at him, and Bucky nodded. Taking another deeper breath, Tony went on, "Pretty sure I did get one from Bucky. But you, you keep looking at me with all kinds of expectations in your eyes, and then running off to, I don't know, brood, those few times I do see you."

"And what should I do, then?" Steve asked, challenge in his eyes and voice, though he managed to keep it out of the rest of his body language for the most part. "I never wanted you to leave."

Well, that was a bit better. Nodding to himself, Bucky put himself physically between the pair of idiots to put an end to the confrontation before they could destroy the progress they'd made by speaking before they thought it through. He'd lost count of the number of times Steve had done that when his emotions were riled up, and this was far from a calm moment. "Good enough for now," he told them. "Tony, go get some sleep. And put Rhodey in an actual bed, while you're at it. I have a few things I have to talk over with this lunkhead, myself."

Tony looked like he wanted to protest, then threw up his hands. "Whatever."

Steve did try to protest. "Bucky! What-- I wasn't done!"

Catching Steve's wrists and holding them firmly, Bucky stepped in close until he was just about chest-to-chest with his old friend. "Let it go, Steve," he said quietly. "Using force isn't the way to get him to listen, and I meant it. We have to talk about a few things."


	22. [Tony]

Looking back, Tony could admit that Bucky had been right to stop their discussion about their relationship issues when he had, before either of them could sabotage it.

And -- to Bucky's clear amusement -- after that, he had decided that a lot of short discussions were preferable to one long one. Steve had fought him on that the first few times. Had tried to make him stay and hash everything out. But Bucky had stepped in and put his foot down.

After the first three or four times that had happened, Steve had given in and accepted the approach. Albeit with a bit of resentment.

Once he'd warmed up to the idea, though, Steve had thrown himself into trying to persuade Tony to try again. To make that part of the 'clean slate' Tony had asked for.

And Tony, well, had found himself hesitating. It had been a week since their initial 'talk' over breakfast, as instigated by Sam, and for five of those days, Steve had been doing his level best to win him over.

It was slowly wearing him down, too.

Tony had to admit, if only to himself, that Steve hadn't done anything worse than let himself focus on helping his best friend. In the grand scheme of things, Tony couldn't find fault with that, either. Not now that he had a bit of perspective on what had happened. He'd have done the same -- or more -- for Rhodey, had the situation been reversed. 

Steve and Bucky had done exactly the same for him after they'd gotten him home, too.

But in the moment, that day an eternity ago, all Tony had been able to see was that Steve was pulling away from him.

Did he want Steve back? Yeah, he kinda did. But could he start that relationship over and manage _not_ to think about all the fighting and pain that had plagued them in the weeks and months since their first attempt to make things work? Tony wasn't sure. 

And then there was the little problem of his attraction to Bucky.

Tony scrubbed at his face with his hands and let them muffle his groan.

"Sir?" JARVIS prompted him.

Setting the thoughts aside, as best he could, Tony refocused on his project -- an upgrade for Bucky's hand. "You got those simulation results for me, J?"

"There is a likelihood of increased failure rate in the mechanisms actuating the forefinger," JARVIS replied, sounding vaguely relieved. "The cantilevered attachment points for the internal components may not be robust enough to withstand the levels of use that Sergeant Barnes is accustomed to subjecting his prosthetic to."

A short video clip, obviously culled from a traffic camera somewhere, played on the screen to Tony's right and he watched as the Winter Soldier -- that wasn't Bucky, and he knew exactly what the difference was on a very personal level, now -- used his prosthetic hand to dig five long parallel furrows into a goddamn ten meter stretch of asphalt road surface to counteract his forward momentum, crouched in a position that reminded Tony of his favored three-point landing pose and probably half-destroyed his boots.

A shiver of totally inappropriate arousal zinged up Tony's spine, as he watched the Winter Soldier move. He'd always had an attraction to competence, and that clip was... he had to work not to bite at his lip. Goddamn but that was hot.

"Huh," he said after watching the footage loop a couple of times and doing his best not to let it percolate too far into his hindbrain. "Well, we can't use the outer shell as an attachment point for anything. What kind of reinforcement are we looking at for the skeleton?"

JARVIS didn't reply, instead redirecting Tony's attention to the workshop door. "Perhaps that would be best saved for later. You appear to have a visitor, Sir, and I would venture to say you should not ignore him."

Turning away from his workbench, Tony spotted Steve, who was staring at him with the sort of laser focus that Tony remembered from those days just before Bucky had burst back into their lives and unintentionally sent everything spiraling out of control. That look had tended to mean that there was either something important to discuss incoming, or a serious make-out session on offer.

"Let him in," Tony said, finally accepting that he would probably take Steve back the next time he was asked and damn the consequences, then pushed himself away from his workstation with a long breath that might have been a sigh if it had had a voice. 

"Cap," he greeted the man, "what brings you to my lair?"

Steve's focused expression never wavered and he very deliberately stepped right up to Tony, putting them nose-to-nose. "You, Tony."

Looking up at Steve wasn't a new thing, but somehow this time it sent a shiver up Tony's spine. "Gonna need a little more detail than that."

"Come upstairs and eat."

It wasn't an invitation, per se. Sounded more like a battlefield command. Tony raised an eyebrow at Steve. "And if I say no?"

"You'll never know what I wanted to ask you."

Tony scowled at him. Damn the man, he knew exactly what buttons to push. Knew it, too, judging by his smirk. Tony stepped back, putting some space between them, and made his decision. "You know the drill, J, lock this stuff down until I'm back."

The displays winked out and JARVIS replied, "And the remaining design simulations?"

"I'll take a look later." Tony turned for the door and didn't look back. He knew Steve would be following him with a smug expression. If he had to see it, Tony would only be tempted to try to get rid of it somehow. Maybe by kissing the asshole.

They were silent while the elevator rose smoothly.

When the doors opened on the common floor, Tony found his mouth watering at the rich smell of Chinese food that seemed to permeate the area, and his stomach growled. Bucky looked up from his spot on the sofa, and grinned. "Oh good, you got him to join us."

"Took some persuasion," Steve replied, grinning back.

This was starting to feel oddly like a trap. Tony eyed them both warily. "What'd you order?"

"See for yourself," Bucky told him. "Oh, and Rhodey called me to say he was gonna find a way to get his revenge for getting him drunk. Any idea why he'd do that?"

Steve rolled his eyes, and gave Tony a small shove toward the sofa. "You can eat and talk."


	23. [Steve]

When Tony gave in and settled next to Bucky, picking up a carton of lo mein, Steve had to force his relief not to show. At times, he still felt like he was fighting an uphill battle, trying to get Tony to even acknowledge him.

It felt like he was making progress, though.

Steve picked up his own food carton and let himself think back over the last two days. He was guardedly hopeful that Tony would agree to try again.

The thing that had him on edge -- and Bucky too -- was the discussion that the two of them had had yesterday. It hadn't taken Steve long to work out that Bucky was upset about something; once Steve had started actively trying to convince Tony to give him another chance, Bucky had started carefully withdrawing. Steve had watched his friend pull back from a lot of the things they usually did together, suddenly spending more time with Sam or isolating himself, and debated what to do.

It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit to figure out just why Bucky was upset, though. Sure, part of that had been Bucky's own reticence. The topic was one Bucky hadn't wanted to broach. At all. And he'd done everything in his power to squirm out of talking about it. But the rest had been his own fault, and Steve had not liked feeling like he couldn't read Bucky accurately anymore, after it had been like they'd fallen right back into their old friendship, recently.

When Steve had finally succeeded in prying the answers out of Bucky, though, he'd understood why.

Finding out that Bucky was sweet on Tony... Well, that had been a bit of a shock. Steve'd had to take a step back and think it all through. More because it bothered him less than it probably should, than for any other reason. Of course, while he'd thought that through, Bucky had come to the conclusion that Steve was upset and tried to slip away.

Bucky had fought to get free for a few long seconds, while Steve held tight to his friend's metal arm, but not dared use too much of his strength. It had taken Steve a few tries to get Bucky to _listen_ to him, to believe that he wasn't mad, and then a few more to calm Bucky back down himself.

In the end, they had spent some two and a half hours hashing out where they both stood, before Bucky had taken a deep breath and finally met Steve's eyes for the first time since they'd started the discussion. And what he'd said...

Bucky had wanted to keep isolating himself like that, to keep from screwing up Steve's attempt to fix his relationship with Tony.

Steve had put his foot down before he could think better of the idea. He didn't want that, and he could tell Bucky didn't either.

So here they were. Bucky and Tony were arguing about which of them had tried the most bizarre cuisine, and Steve had to smile, as he kept eating his own meal.

Seeing them like that, gesturing animatedly and laughing at one another, sparked a radical plan.

He'd have to talk it over with Bucky.

Setting aside the thoughts, Steve applied himself to his meal in earnest and hid his smile. If he could convince Bucky to go for it, he thought they had good odds of convincing Tony. Watching them argue good-naturedly, Steve suspected Tony might not be as immune to Bucky's charm as he'd previously assumed.

Steve couldn't keep the thoughts away, though, and knew the others could tell he was distracted, but they left him to work through it, for the most part, and Steve was grateful for that. Tony kept giving him speculative looks that clearly said he wanted to know what Steve was thinking about so hard, but kept ribbing Bucky.

To Steve's amusement, Bucky was acting much the same.

God, Bucky. He needed to think about this some more. If he did decide to go through with this -- if they did -- he and Bucky would have to work out how they felt about one another, and that was... Steve didn't know what to think about that. He loved Bucky as a brother, and more, as the one constant in his life. But could he add a romantic relationship to that without making both of them uncomfortable?

He had no idea.

He would have to get Bucky alone and discuss this, in what would probably end up being excruciating detail, before he -- or maybe _they_ \-- made any sort of move.

"Hey, Steve," Bucky pulled him back out of his thoughts. "Tell me you're still in the now, punk."

Shaking his head to clear it, Steve caught his old friend's eyes. "More or less. Was thinking about yesterday."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Well quit it. You're bringing the mood down. You can brood about that later."

"Brood about what?" Tony pounced on the opening. "What's wrong?"

"We were considering going out to the new MoMA exhibit," Bucky offered, saving Steve's skin one more time, as he always did.

Steve nodded. "It'd be nice to get out of the Tower, but it'd be better if people don't recognise Bucky."

Tony eyed them both suspiciously, for a beat, as though he knew they were planning no such thing, then shrugged. "Put a ballcap and a pair of gloves on him, then. People see what they expect to see. And the best disguise is the least complicated one. That's one of the few areas where I'll concede low-tech is better."

Bucky snorted. "That why you made yourself a fancy gadget to keep your own appearance under wraps?"

"It's a bit harder to make yourself look older without spending hours of your day applying makeup -- which can smudge or get ruined if it rains -- and I don't have the time to waste on something like that. My solution is better."

"Then get me one for my arm," Bucky argued. "It'd stand out less than long sleeves and gloves on a warm day."

Grumbling something about stubborn idiots, Tony threw up his hands and acquiesced, trying to project annoyance, but Steve could see he was pleased by Bucky's readiness to use the new tech.


	24. [Bucky]

The idea that he could get Tony to make him his own hologram had been something of a revelation, and he was kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. "Tomorrow, Tony."

"Tomorrow what?"

"Tomorrow we're talking details. I want one of those gadgets of yours, and that means deciding where to put it and what it should do." Bucky pointed out in his most reasonable tone.

Tony made a face. "Where is easy; as long as I can get it small enough not to interfere with the articulation, it should go in your arm near the shoulder. For now you'd have to deal with wearing it under your clothes like I do."

"Whatever," Bucky waved away that consideration. He didn't care. "Just make it hide my face and my arm."

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Who do you want to look like, then? Vera Lynn?"

"Very funny, punk."

Tony made a pained wheezing sound before breaking down into a surprised peal of giggles, and both of them turned to watch him. "Vera Lynn? Really?" he managed.

"Damn it, Steve," Bucky grumbled, poking at his friend's broad chest, "you broke him."

It took Tony a moment to calm back down, and Bucky just _knew_ that there would be at least one surprise for him hiding in this hologram thing, now.

Deciding he didn't care, he verbally prodded at Tony again. "So? Think you can do it?"

Rather than answer him directly, Tony glanced up at the camera he'd hidden in a corner of the room for JARVIS. "You heard the man, J," he said, "get me two each of all the parts, and generate a selection of faces for him to pick from."

Bucky grinned. This promised to be fun.

The following morning, after a somewhat broken attempt to sleep, Bucky got out of bed with a groan. He knew he wasn't physically tired enough to stay in bed, but he felt wrung out regardless. Somehow after the short discussion on what sort of face Bucky wanted to wear -- he'd decided to change his eye and hair color but not much else -- Tony had roped him into going down to the workshop and trying on the gadget, so that Tony could tweak the settings to suit him.

That had left him fighting his attraction to the man, again, and then his thoughts had kept him awake long into the night. Trying to reconcile Steve's insistence that he not pull away with the way his attraction was forcing him to constantly fight to stick to his ethics was apparently exhausting.

Steve took one look at him when he stumbled blearily into their shared kitchen and snorted. "Rough night?"

"Shut up." Bucky growled at him and let himself slump forward onto their kitchen table.

"What's wrong?" Steve's hand came down to rest, warm and heavy, on the nape of his neck. "Come on, Buck, talk to me."

The feeling, skin on skin, loosened a bit of the tension in him and Bucky didn't move, hoping Steve's hand would stay there. He didn't bother to raise his head when he spoke. "You said I shouldn't stay away, but I don't think I can do that," he admitted, knowing the words came out muffled by his arm and the table. "And it's killin' me not knowin' what to do about it. He's my friend, now, and I can't just abandon him. But stayin' around him is the worst kind of temptation, Steve."

Only the knowledge that they'd already been over this ground once before and that Steve wouldn't freak out, let him say the words.

Steve's silence was making him tense right back up, though, and Bucky just knew Steve could feel his muscles winding tighter and tighter.

Eventually, Steve spoke, shattering the moment. "That's somethin' I've been meanin' to bring up, actually," he replied in kind, and Bucky couldn't quite swallow back the pained sound he made. Hearing that felt like getting sucker punched. Steve's hand on his neck tightened a little, reassuringly firm. "Buck, I hate seein' you all tied up in knots over this. I did some thinkin' of my own last night. I'm not about to give him up. Not again, not now that I might almost have him convinced it'd work out. But I don't want to parade it around in front of you like that, either."

Steve paused, as though waiting for a reply or maybe searching for words. Not sure where this was going, Bucky said nothing, waiting Steve out. This had the sound of one of the punk's crazy schemes.

"What if we shared him?"

Yep. Definitely one of Steve's crazy schemes. Bucky raised his head just enough that he could glare up at the idiot with one eye. "What."

"I mean it." The punk even had the gall to give him a very serious look, one of the ones he usually reserved for the press.

Bucky groaned and pushed himself more or less upright. "First? I'm not the kind of guy to butt into someone else's relationship. And, anyway, he'd never go for that. I've seen the way he looks at you with stars in his eyes. Second, you've got one hell of an imagination if you think he's interested in me, Rogers."

"Buck, don't be dense. He looks at you the same way." Steve huffed at him. "Look, the worst that can happen is that he says no."

"And are you willing to give up your shot at him if this goes down in flames?"

That stopped Steve in his tracks, and Bucky stood, letting Steve's hand slide off his shoulder in favor of making himself a mug of coffee.

Steve looked conflicted, when Bucky met his eyes again.

"I thought not," Bucky turned his back on Steve and dug in their cupboards for a mug. "Give it up, Steve, and just get your man."

"So you're just giving up?" Steve asked him, and Bucky knew he was being baited. "You're just going to sit back and let this cut at you constantly?"

Bucky felt his hackles going up. He couldn't help it. Steve knew damned well that he only rarely backed down from a challenge, and was taking shameless advantage.

"You know what," he growled, turning and pointing his as-yet-empty cup at his moron of a best friend, " _fine_! But if this blows up in your face, don't expect me to offer you any sympathy!"

Steve's smug expression said it all.


	25. [Tony]

When Bucky and Steve walked into his workshop late the following afternoon, Tony was ready for them. He had gotten a flash of inspiration when JARVIS made an offhanded comment about Bucky's arm and its curvature that led to him totally overhauling the hologram generator. The newly reconfigured device was significantly smaller, and designed to fit snugly under the metal plates of the arm, as planned.

Even better, it was also prepared, and ready for installation.

Steve had a hand on Bucky's right shoulder, as though his friend needed a stable point to lean against, and Bucky... Bucky looked like he would have preferred to walk into battle unarmed than let Tony do this thing he had demanded, and that was baffling.

Setting the thought aside, he gestured broadly at the new device. "So, Bucky, are you ready for this?"

Visibly shaking off whatever he'd been thinking about, Bucky nodded. "Damned right I am."

"Alright, c'mere then," Tony pointed to the spare chair he'd dragged over to stand next to his workbench, "and try not to move."

Installing the generator was designed to be simple. It fit easily under the curve of the upper arm plates, and mounted to the frame of the arm. If he needed to trigger it, Bucky would need a button he could push, though. That was the rationale for the small remote button that went under the metal plates of Bucky's wrist.

It took under five minutes to place everything, and then Tony stepped back and caught Bucky's eyes. "Well? Go on and try it out," he suggested.

Shifting his arm carefully, learning how the changes made it feel and respond to commands, Bucky stood and stretched before he followed directions. When he tipped his left hand back and tapped at the button with the other, it was like watching heated air rise in waves. The air around Bucky seemed to shimmer and then someone else who somewhat resembled Bucky and didn't have the very distinctive metal arm was standing in his place.

It was kind of bizarre.

The stranger grinned at him after a beat. "So how do I look?"

Steve answered. "Different? It's hard to pin down."

"Good." Bucky gave Steve a pointed look. "Gonna keep your promises now, punk?"

Tony watched them both carefully, wondering what the fuck that meant. That sounded like it might have consequences. "Promises?"

Steve stepped up to Tony. "Yeah," he said, suddenly so close Tony could feel the heat radiating off Steve's skin, "we've got a question for you. Well. Two questions, really."

Tony's mouth went a little dry and he swallowed, resisting the urge to step back. "What?"

"We've danced around the question of trying again," Steve said bluntly. "Do you want to? Will you give us another chance?"

"What's your other question?" Tony could hear the rasp in his own voice.

Bucky shifted almost uncomfortably, and Tony absently noted that there were still a few minor glitches in the holographic coverage of Bucky's arm, where the contours of the metal didn't quite match up with the natural shape of his good arm, which he and JARVIS had tried to match. He would have to adjust that before Bucky went anywhere outside the Tower.

Steve's next words brought that train of thought to an abrupt halt.

"Are you also interested in Bucky?" He asked, an intent expression on his face.

Stunned, Tony just stared at him for a long moment.

"Well? Are you?" Steve prodded at him.

Not sure what to say, Tony kept his mouth shut. Admitting that he was would lose him Steve. Saying that he wasn't would probably mean that he'd get in trouble later if his attraction ever made him put his foot in his mouth.

"Told'ya it was a lost cause," Bucky commented, turning to leave, but Steve stopped him with a hand on his metal shoulder. "Still don't believe me, Steve?"

"Wait, what?" Tony thought he might have gotten a case of mental whiplash from those words. "What are you saying here, exactly?"

Steve gave him an arch look. "You're the celebrity playboy," he quipped. "Are you saying you don't recognise an invitation to an open relationship when you see one?"

This didn't compute. None of this made sense.

He realised he'd said those words out loud when Steve laughed at him. "Look, Buck, he's speechless."

"Are you both serious, right now? Bucky, did he talk you into this?" Tony asked suspiciously.

Steve nodded. "Very serious. We talked about it, and, yeah, I had to convince him to let me ask you, because he thought you wouldn't be interested. Do you need some time to think it over?"

Now caught between disbelief and want, Tony stepped right up close to Bucky, daringly putting himself in Bucky's personal space. "Are you serious about this?" He asked again, quietly, "'Cause I'm sure not opposed. Steve's made his position clear, but I don't know where you stand on this. I don't even know if you're attracted to men. But you've definitely been testing my resolve these last few days."

Bucky stared at him blankly for a beat, and Tony saw the decision cross Bucky's face before he was suddenly pulled closer by his shirt. "Never been with a fella before," he admitted, "but I've never backed down from anything yet, just because I'd never done it before. You're good for Steve and he wants you. Punk thinks I'd pine away if we didn't at least try this. So, here I am. Trying this."

Before he could process those words, Tony found himself pulled off balance. He flailed, all but falling against Bucky, and after a half panicked second his hands found purchase on Bucky's upper arms. That was as far as he got before Barnes was kissing him.

Tony felt his thoughts shudder to a stop, and it took him a second to respond.

The touch was tentative and careful, but he could tell Bucky definitely knew what he was doing. Deciding to take the lead, Tony showed him what he liked, licking at Bucky's ridiculously plush lips until he let Tony deepen the kiss and fit them tighter together.

They stayed that way, exploring and testing one anothers' responses, until Steve made a strangled sound.

When they broke apart, Tony had to laugh. Steve was definitely enjoying the show.

Clearing his throat, twice, Steve eventually managed to say, "I... might have underestimated how good that would look."

"It'll look even better on a flat surface with less clothes in the way."

Bucky huffed. "Not on the first date."


End file.
